gin with, and his own natural taste and studious habits had led him
to read extensively. His business required him to sit up and watch when
other men slept. He seldom went to bed before four o'clock any morning,
and when he did take his rest he lay down like the soldier in an enemy's
country, ready to rush to arms at the first sound of the bugle. His
bugle, by the way, was a speaking-trumpet, one end of which was close to
the head of his bed, the other end being in the lobby where the men on
duty for the night reposed.

During these long watches in the silent lobby, with the two men belted
and booted on their tressels, the clock ticking gently by his side, like
the soft quiet voice of a chatty but not tiresome friend, Frank read
book after book with absorbing interest. History, poetry, travel,
romance--all kinds were equally devoured. At the particular time of
which we write, however, he read more of poetry than of anything else.

The consequence was that Frank, who was one of nature's gentlemen,
became a well-informed man, and might have moved in any circle of
society with credit to himself, and profit as well as pleasure to
others.

Frank was by nature grave, sedate, earnest, thoughtful. Emma was
equally earnest--more so perhaps--but she was light-hearted (not light
_headed_, observe) and volatile. The result was mutual attraction. Let
philosophers account for the mutual attraction of these qualities as
they best may, we simply record the fact. History records it; nature
records it; experience--everything records it; who has the temerity, or
folly, to deny it?

Emma and Frank _felt_ it, and, in some mysterious way, Frank had come to
know something or other about Emma's feelings, which it is not our
business to inquire into too particularly.

So, then, Frank also gazed--no, not at the moon; it would have required
him to ascend three flights of stairs, and a ladder, besides passing
through a trap to the roof of the station, to enable him to do that; but
there was a lamp over the fireplace, with a tin reflector, which had
quite a dazzling effect of its own--not a bad imitation of the moon in a
small way--so he gazed at that, and thought it very bright indeed;
brighter than usual.

We may as well put the reader out of suspense at once by saying that we
do not intend to describe Miss Tippet's evening with "a few friends."
Our own private opinion in regard to the matter is, that if they had
been fewer than t