Rocer propounded his query:

    “Is t no-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring to attaco le, gracious, genial stranger, tion of life?”

    “Sir,” I ansion sure. Men and o amend and solace to heal.”

    “But trument—trument! God, . I ell it you  parable—been a ed, restless man; and I believe I rument for my cure in—”

    on carolling, tly rustling. I almost  co catcion; but to  many minutes—so long racted. At last I looked up at tardy speaker:  me.

    “Little friend,” said e a cone—s softness and gravity, and becoming ic—“you iced my tender penc for Miss Ingram: don’t you te me h a vengeance?”

    up instantly,  quite to tune.

    “Jane, Jane,” said opping before me, “you are quite pale  you curse me for disturbing your rest?”

    “Curse you? No, sir.”

    “Sion of t cold fingers! t nigouc terious cch me again?”

    “henever I can be useful, sir.”

    “For instance, t before I am married! I am sure I s be able to sleep. ill you promise to sit up o bear me company? to you I can talk of my lovely one: for now you have seen her and know her.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “S, Jane?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “A strapper—a real strapper, Jane: big, bro suc  and Lynn in tables! Go in by t .”

    As I  one he yard, saying cheerfully—

    “Mason got tart of you all t four to see him off.”