ife of pleasure, and that soul of whim!"

Or, as another poet has it--

'"Twas Jack--but living Jack no more!"

"Jack," said I, after a long and solemn silence, in which I had tried
in vain to conjecture what might possibly be the cause of this--"Jack,
dear boy, you and I have had confidences together, a little out of the
ordinary line. I came here to congratulate you about your fortune; but
I find you utterly cut up about something. Will you let me ask you what
it is? I don't ask out of idle curiosity, but out of sympathy. At the
same time, if it's any thing of a private nature, I beg pardon for
asking you to tell it."

Jack looked up, and a faint flicker of a smile passed over his face.

"Oh, all right, old boy!" he said. "I'm hit hard--all up--and that sort
of thing--hit hard--yes, damned hard--serves me right, too, you know,
for being such an infernal fool."

He frowned, and drew a long breath.

"Wait a minute, old chap," said he, rising from the sofa; "I'll get
something to sustain nature, and then I'll answer your question. I'm
glad you've come. I don't know but that it'll do me good to tell it all
to somebody. It's hard to stay here in my den, fretting my heart out
--damned hard!--but wait a minute, and I'll explain."

Saying this, he walked over to the sideboard.

"Will you take any thing?"

"Thanks, no," said I; "a pipe is all I want." And I proceeded to fill
and light one.

Thereupon Jack poured out a tumbler of raw brandy, which he swallowed.

Then he came back to the sofa. A flush came to his face, and his eyes
looked brighter; but he had still the same haggard aspect.

"I'm in for it, Macrorie," said he at last, gloomily.

"In for it?"

"Yes--an infernal scrape."

"What?"

"The widow--damn her!" and he struck his clinched fist against the head
of the sofa.

"In for it? The widow?" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

Jack drew a long breath, and regarded me with a fixed stare. "I mean," said
Jack, fixing his eyes upon me with an awful look, "I mean this
--that I have to marry that woman."

"Marry her?"

"Yes," he exclaimed, dashing his fist upon the table savagely, "marry
her! There you have it. I'm in for it. No escape. Escape--ha! ha!
Nabbed, sir. All up! Married and done for--yes, eternally done for!"

He jerked these words out in a fierce, feverish way; and then, flinging
himself back, he clasped his knees with his hands, and sat regarding me
with stern eyes and frowning brow.