is face as their lips met, and from his
eyes, as the heavy coach rolled into the darkness of the night.

Are there really such things as actual presentiments? God alone knows.
Is the subtle soul-atmosphere capable of a vibration at the approach
and in advance of an event? And are some spirits so acutely attuned
as to be over-sensible of this vibration? God knows. Or was the act
of Bart, like many of his, due to sudden impulse? Perhaps he could not
tell. If the faculty was his, don't envy him.

Barton had already resumed his connection with Gen. Ford's office.
The General had returned full of his winter's labors, and found an
intelligent and sympathizing listener in Bart, who had a relish
for politics and the excitements of political life, although he was
resolved to owe no consideration that he might ever win to political
position.

Under the stimulus from his intercourse with his brother and Ranney,
and profiting by their hints and suggestions, he plunged more eagerly
into law-books than ever. He constructed a light boat, with a pair of
sculls, and rigged also with a spar and sail, with which to traverse
the pond, with places to secure it on the opposite shores; and early
passers along the State road, that overlooked the placid waters, often
marked a solitary boatman pulling a little skiff towards the eastern
shore.

And once, a belated picnic party, returning from Barker's landing,
discovered a phantom sail flitting slowly in the night breeze over the
dark waters to the west. They lingered on the brow of the hill, until
it disappeared under the shadow of the western wooded shore, wondering
and questioning much as to who and what it was. One, the loveliest,
knew, but said nothing.

The Markhams, one day, in their carriage, passed Bart with his books
toiling up Oak Hill. He removed his hat as they passed, without other
recognition. All of them felt the invisible wall between them, and
two, at least, silently regretted that they might not invite him to an
unoccupied seat. They were at the Fords' to dinner that day, and Bart,
being invited to join them by the General, politely declined.

The General was a little grave at the table, while Mrs. Ford was
decided and marked in her commendation of the young student, and
described, with great animation, a little excursion they had made
over to the pond, and the skill with which Bart had managed his little
sail-boat.

CHAPTER XXII.

A SHATTERED COLUMN.

In m