e in the lake, and put myself out of my misery?"

"Oh, pray--pray don't, John!" sobbed poor Jane, whose feelings were
stirred to their deepest depth, and, believing in her old lovers earnest
repentance, she was all the weak woman now. "I'm 'most heart-broken,
dear, without more troubles. You don't know what has been happening
lately."

"No," groaned Gurdon, "I don't know. My troubles have been enough for
me."

"What with my lady nearly dying, and Sir Murray being locked up in the
library, and the door being broken open to find him in a fit, the place
is dreadful, without you going on as you do."

"Don't, please, be hard on me, dear," groaned Gurdon; "and if they did
break open the library door, they mended it again, I suppose, for Sir
Murray's got plenty of money, ain't he?"

"No, they didn't stop for no mending," sobbed Jane. "It's enough to do
to mend poor people's sorrows here as is all driving us mad. Money's no
use where you're miserable."

"And are you miserable, dear?" whispered Gurdon.

"Oh, how can you ask?" sobbed Jane.

"Don't seem like it," said Gurdon, softly, "or you'd come down and say a
few words to me before I go away, perhaps for ever; for when once the
great seas are rolling between us, Jane, there's, perhaps, no chance of
our seeing one another no more."

"Oh, how can you ask me? You know I can't!" exclaimed Jane, angrily.

"I thought as much," whined Gurdon, in a deep, husky voice, and as if
speaking only to himself; "but I thought I'd put her to the proof--just
give her one more trial."

"You cruel--cruel--cruel fellow! how can you torture me so?" sobbed
Jane, who had heard every word. "It's wicked of you, it is, when you
know it's more than my place is worth to do it."

"Ah," said Gurdon, huskily, "I did think once, that a place in my heart
was all that you wanted, and that I had but to say `Come and take it,
Jenny,' and you'd have come. But I was a different man, then, and
hadn't gone wrong, and I'm rightly punished now. Goodbye, Heaven bless
you!--bless you! and may you be happy!"

"But stop--stop a moment, John! Oh, pray don't go yet! I've something
to tell you."

"I dursen't stop no longer," said John, huskily. "People will be sure
to hear us; and bad as I am, Jenny, I wouldn't do you any harm. No--no,
I'd suffer anything--die for you, though I've been wrong, and taken a
glass too much. Good--goo-oo-ood-bye!"

"But stop a moment, John, pray!" sobbed Jane.

"N