The jailer, a blunt, though humane man, briefly disclosed a plan, which he, with Almira, had devised, for the escape of Hamilton. He had consented to allow the prisoner to escape, in female dress, while she was to remain in his stead, so that the whole contrivance should seem to be her own. 'I am a plain man,' concluded the jailer, 'but I know what's right. It 'aint fair to hang no man on suspicion--and more than that, I am not agoing to stand in no man's way--especially a friend who has done me favors, as you have. I go in for giving every fellow a fair chance. The track's clear, Mr. Hamilton, and the quicker you put out, the better.' To his surprise, the prisoner peremptorily refused the offer. 'I am innocent,' said he; 'but I would suffer a thousand deaths rather than injure the fair fame of this confiding girl.' 'Go, Dudley--my dear Dudley,' she sobbed: 'for my sake, for the sake of your broken-hearted father and sister--' 'Do not tempt me--my dear Almira. I will not do that which would expose you to disgrace.' 'Oh, who would blame me?' 'The world--the uncharitable world--they who believe me a murderer, and have tortured the most innocent actions into proofs of deliberate villainy, will not hesitate to brand you as the victim of a cold-blooded felon. And why should I fly? to live a wretched wanderer, with the brand of Cain on my forehead, and a character stamped with infamy?'-- He would have said more--but the form, that during this brief dialogue, had sunk into his arms, was lying lifeless on his bosom. He kissed her cold lips, and passionately repeated her name--but she heard him not--her pure spirit had gently disengaged itself, and was flown forever. Her heart was broken. She had watched, and wept, and prayed, in hopeless grief, until the physical energies of a delicate frame were exhausted: and the excitement of the last scene had snapped the attenuated thread of life.