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There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. " "So I find, Captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; "but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. " And he tossed it carelessly into the bottom of the boat. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. "But we'll find a way to make you open your lips presently. "Do you mean to say that if I support your kid, I shan't bring him up how I please—eh?" "Don't question me, but leave me," replied the widow wildly; "you had better. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. See paragraph 1. Can’t face a scandal. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear.

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