"Will he consent, to be searched?" inquired Jonathan. Though he never seen so much of Miss Mary as I did. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. “We’re going to be found out someday. I’ve made an ally of her champion. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. Close upon this came another thought. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. “But then they would find that check endorsed in his bureau. Perhaps you will explain the state of panic into which I seem to have thrown you. You have said a thousand times that there was no shame in you. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. 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. Mr.
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