And, with this resolve, I started back to England.
On arriving, I took up a newspaper, and you may judge the terror I
felt as I read the account of Williams's awful death with the
miniature upon him. It staggered me, but it did not melt my heart.
I interpreted it that my plans were frustrated, as I found that Dr.
Brier had obtained possession of the miniature. I dared not remain
in the country, for fear of discovery and of identification with
the crime of Williams; but I could not tear myself away until I had
once more visited the neighborhood of the dear old school-house.
I cannot think without emotion of that moonlight night when I lay
down beside the marble pillar which tender hearts had caused to be
placed there, "In loving memory of D.M." Oh, my father, how true it
is that "the way of transgressors is hard!" I thought my heart
would break as I lay there on the cold earth and wept the bitterest
tears I ever shed.
If I could but have caught sight of Dr. Brier, or felt the
motherly touch of Mrs. Brier's hand upon my shoulder,--if I could
but have heard the ring of Howard's or Martin's voice in the
play-ground, I felt as if the evil within me would have taken
flight and I should have risen up a regenerated man.
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