While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan. “You are in a private room of St. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. —Well, then, my dear," he added aloud, "do you still entertain the strong attachment you did to Captain Darrell?" Winifred's cheeks glowed with blushes, and fixing her eyes, which flashed with resentment, upon the questioner, she said: "I have promised to answer your question, and I will do so. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. "That's well," replied Wild, entering the house, and fastening the door. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise.
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