and with a short
"good-night," left the house, and hurried down the avenue.

CHAPTER X. THE LABORATORY

There was a small closet-like room in Layton's cottage which he had
fitted up, as well as his very narrow means permitted, as a laboratory.
Everything in it was, of course, of the very humblest kind; soda-water
flasks were fashioned into retorts, and even blacking-jars held strange
chemical mixtures. Here, however, he spent most of his time in the
search of some ingredient by which he hoped to arrest the progress of
all spasmodic disease. An accidental benefit he had himself derived from
a certain salt of ammonia had suggested the inquiry, and for years back
this had constituted the main object of all his thoughts. Determined, if
his discovery were to prove a success, it should burst upon the world in
all its completeness, he had never revealed to any one but his son the
object of his studies. Alfred, indeed, was made participator of his
hopes and ambitions; he had seen all the steps of the inquiry, and
understood thoroughly the train of reasoning on which the theory was
based. The young man's patience in investigation and his powers of
calculation were of immense value to his father, and Layton deeply
regretted the absence of the one sole assistant he could or would
confide in. A certain impatience, partly constitutional, partly from
habits of intemperance, had indisposed the old man to those laborious
calculations by which chemical discovery is so frequently accompanied,
and these he threw upon his son, who never deemed any labor too great,
or any investigation too wearisome, if it should save his father
some part of his daily fatigue. It was not for months after Alfred's
departure that Layton could re-enter his study, and resume his old
pursuits. The want of the companionship that cheered him, and the able
help that seconded all his efforts, had so damped his ardor, that he
had, if not abandoned his pursuit, at least deferred its prosecution
indefinitely. At last, however, by a vigorous effort, he resumed his old
labor, and in the interest of his search he soon regained much of his
former ambition for success.

The investigations of chemistry have about them all the fluctuating
fortunes of a deep and subtle game. There are the same vacillations of
good and bad luck; the same tides of hope and fear; the almost certain
prospect of success dashed and darkened by failure; the grief and
disappointment of failur