’I took no precaution, not knowing what had happened; but ’twas night when we arrived, Duncan and I, and we went straight to Gamble’s and he concealed me.  I kept close within his house, except on one night, when I took coach.  I was under necessity, as you shall hear, to visit Chapelizod.  I got out in the hollow of the road by the Knockmaroon pond, in the park; an awful night it was—­the night of the snow-storm, when the brig was wrecked off the Black Rock, you remember.  I wanted to get some papers necessary to my case against Mary Duncan.  I had the key of the glass door; the inside fastening was broke, and there was no trouble in getting in.  But the women had sat up beyond their hour, and saw me.  I got the papers, however, and returned, having warned them not to speak.  I ventured out of doors but once more, and was took on a warrant for assaulting Sturk.  ’Twas the women talking as they did excited the officer’s suspicions.

’I have lain in prison since.  The date of my committal and discharge are, I suppose, there.’

And so ends this rough draft, with the initials, I think, in his own hands, C. N., at the foot.

At about half-past four o’clock Nutter came out to the Mills in a coach.  He did not drive through Chapelizod; he was shy, and wished to feel his way a little.  So he came home privily by the Knockmaroon Park-gate.  Poor little Sally rose into a sort of heroine.  With a wild cry, and ’Oh, Charlie!’ she threw her arms about his neck; and the ’good little crayture,’ as Magnolia was wont to call her, had fainted.  Nutter said nothing, but carried her in his arms to the sofa, and himself sobbed very violently for about a minute, supporting her tenderly.  She came to herself very quickly, and hugged her Charlie with such a torrent of incoherent endearments, welcomes, and benedictions as I cannot at all undertake to describe.  Nutter didn’t speak.  His arms were about her, and with wet eyes, and biting his nether-lip, and smiling, he looked into her poor little wild, delighted face with an unspeakable world of emotion and affection beaming from the homely lines and knots of that old mahogany countenance; and the maids smiling, blessing, courtesying, and welcoming him home again, added to the pleasant uproar which amazed even the tipsy coachman from the hall.

’Oh!  Charlie, I have you fast, my darling.  Oh! but it’s wonderful; you, yourself—­my Charlie, your own self—­never, never, oh! never to part again!’ and so on.

And so for a rapturous hour, it seemed as if they had passed the dark valley, and were immortal; and no more pain, sorrow, or separation for them.  And, perhaps, these blessed illusions are permitted now and again to mortals, like momentary gleams of paradise, and distant views of the delectable mountains, to cheer poor pilgrims with a foretaste of those meetings beyond the river, where the separated and beloved shall embrace.