cond, but I cannot bear the reflection that some accident
should happen to you. You are the only one with whom I have been on
terms of friendship, and the idea of losing you is very, very painful."

"Newland, you really quite unman me, and you may now see a miracle,"
continued Carbonnell, as he pressed his hand to his eye, "the moisture
of a tear on the cheek of a London _roue_, a man of the world, who has
long lived for himself and for this world only. It never would be
credited if asserted. Newland, there was a time when I was like
yourself--the world took advantage of my ingenuousness and inexperience;
my good feelings were the cause of my ruin, and then, by degrees, I
became as callous and as hardened as the world itself. My dear fellow,
I thought all affection, all sentiment, dried up within me, but it is
not the case. You have made me feel that I have still a heart, and that
I can love you. But this is all romance, and not fitted for the present
time. It is now five o'clock, let us be on the ground early--it will
give us an advantage."

"I do not much like speaking to you on the subject, Carbonnell; but is
there nothing that you might wish done in case of accident?"

"Nothing--why yes. I may as well. Give me a sheet of paper." The
major sat down and wrote for a few minutes. "Now, send Timothy and
another here. Timothy, and you, sir, see me sign this paper, and put my
seal to it. I deliver this as my act and deed. Put your names as
witnesses." They complied with his request, and then the major desired
Timothy to call a hackney-coach. "Newland," said the major, putting the
paper, folded up, in my pocket, along with the bank notes, "take care of
this for me till we come back."

"The coach is at the door, sir," said Timothy, looking at me, as if to
say, "What can all this be about?"

"You may come with us and see," said the major, observing Tim's
countenance, "and put that case into the coach." Tim, who knew that it
was the major's case of pistols, appeared still more alarmed, and stood
still without obeying the order. "Never mind, Tim, your master is not
the one who is to use them," said the major, patting him on the
shoulder.

Timothy, relieved by this intelligence, went down stairs with the
pistols; we followed him. Tim mounted on the box, and we drove to Chalk
Farm. "Shall the coach wait?" inquired Timothy.

"Yes, by all means," replied I, in a low voice. We arrived at the usual
ground