ow the peril
he had past: and wretched Julian would now have dreadful reason of his
own for this mysterious absence: and it was a pleasant thing to trudge
along so freely in the starlight, on the private embassy of love. Happy
Charles! I know not if ever more exhilarated feelings blessed the youth;
they made him trip along the silent road, in a gush of joyfulness, at
the rate of some six miles an hour; I know not if ever such delicious
thoughts of Emily's attachment, and those gorgeous mysteries in India,
of adventure, enterprise, escape, had heretofore caused his heart to
bound so lightsomely within him, like some elastic spring. I know not if
ever strong reliance upon Providential care, more earnest prayers,
praises, intercessions (for poor Julian, too,) were offered on the altar
of his soul. Happy Charles!

So he went on and on--long past Oxton, and Eyemouth, and Surbiton, and
over the ferry, and through the sleeping turnpikes, and past the bridge,
and along the broad high-road, until gray of morning's dawn revealed the
suburbs of Plymouth.

Of course he missed the mail by which he intended to have gone--for
Julian's dread act delayed him.

Long before his journey's end, his clothes were thoroughly dried, and
violent exercise had shaken off all possible rheumatic consequence of
that fearful plunge beneath the waters: five-and-twenty miles in four
hours and three-quarters, is a tolerable recipe for those who have
tumbled into rivers. We must recollect that he had gone as quick as he
could, for fear of being late, now the coach had passed. At a little
country inn, he brushed, and washed, and made toilet as well as he was
able, took a glass of good Cognac, both hot and strong; and felt more of
a man than ever.

Then, having loitered awhile, and well-remembered Emily in his prayers,
at about eight in the morning he presented himself among his luggage at
the Europe in gentlemanly trim, and soon got all on board the pilot
boat, to meet the Indiaman just outside the breakwater. We may safely
leave him there, happy, hopeful Charles! Sanguine for the future,
exulting in the present, and thankful for the past: already has he
poured out all his joys before that Friend who loves her too, and
invoked His blessing on a scheme so well designed, so providentially
accomplished.

I had almost forgotten Julian: wretched, hardened man, and how fared he?
The moment he had flung his brother into that dark stream, and the
waters clo