instead of the few hours which
remained to me, to carve my way out with such an instrument.

Nothing then remained but to devote those few remaining hours to the
work of preparation for my inevitable fate.

I flung myself down upon the rough stone bench, and let my thoughts
wander far away to my dear old Hampshire home, and to the loved ones
there whose hearts the vague tidings of my uncertain fate would go far
to break. They would of course hear, through Captain Hood, of the mad
venture upon which I had embarked; and would doubtless also be furnished
with full details of my doings up to the moment when I disappeared from
Bob's lingering gaze into the darkness of the murky night. And from
that moment all further trace of me would be lost, unless indeed Bastia
should eventually fall into the hands of the British; and even then it
was improbable that, in the general bustle and excitement, anyone would
remember to make inquiries about me. And so the years would drag slowly
on; and while my body lay mouldering in an obscure and unmarked grave,
those loved ones would be hoping against hope for tidings of me, until,
under the long-continued and cruel strain, their hearts would slowly but
surely break.

The subject was of too painful a character to be longer dwelt upon; and
I turned from it to seek in my hour of need the support and consolation
of religion. I recalled to mind some of those sublime passages, so
lavishly scattered through the pages of the "Book of Books," each solemn
word breathing comfort, hope, and promise; but the words chased each
other idly through my throbbing brain, which refused to grasp their
meaning; turning aside instead to interest itself in all manner of idle
fancies. Then I strove to quell the tumult of my mind by earnest
prayer; but it was of no use; words came readily enough to my dry and
fevered lips; but they were words only, not aspirations of the soul.
And so at length I had to abandon my useless efforts and allow my
thoughts to be dragged away a helpless prey to every mad fancy born of
my whirling brain. And all the while I was conscious that the sands in
the hour-glass of my life were fast running out, and that the precious
moments which were passing so swiftly away bore with them the
possibilities of an eternity of bliss or an eternity of woe for me
beyond the great Boundary Line which I was so soon to cross.

And thus the hours sped swiftly on, until a thin shaft of golden light