to walk
madly. Word by word I rehearsed the scene in the drawing-room over the
Park, but I could not think calmly, for the pain of it. Little by little
I probed, writhing, until far back in my boyhood I was tearing at the
dead roots of that cherished plant, which was the Hope of Her Love. It
had grown with my own life, and now with its death to-day I felt that
I had lost all that was dear to me. Then, in the midst of this abject
self-pity, I was stricken with shame. I thought of Comyn, who had borne
the same misfortune as a man should. Had his pain been the less because
he had not loved her from childhood? Like Comyn, I resolved to labour
for her happiness.

What hour of the night it was I know not when a man touched me on the
shoulder, and I came to myself with a start. I was in a narrow street
lined by hideous houses, their windows glaring with light. Each seemed
a skull, with rays darting from its grinning eye-holes. Within I caught
glimpses of debauchery that turned me sick. Ten paces away three women
and a man were brawling, the low angry tones of his voice mingling with
the screeches of their Billingsgate. Muffled figures were passing and
repassing unconcernedly, some entering the houses, others coming out,
and a handsome coach, without arms and with a footman in plain livery,
lumbered along and stopped farther on. All this I remarked before I took
notice of him who had intercepted me, and demanded what he wanted.

"Hey, Bill!" he cried with an oath to a man who stood on the steps
opposite; "'ere's a soft un as has put 'is gill in."

The man responded, and behind him came two more of the same feather, and
suddenly I found myself surrounded by an ill-smelling crowd of flashy
men and tawdry women. They jostled me, and I reached for my sword, to
make the discovery that I had forgotten it. Regaining my full senses, I
struck the man nearest me a blow that sent him sprawling in the dirt. A
blade gleamed under the sickly light of the fish-oil lamp overhead, but
a man crashed through from behind and caught the ruffian's sword-arm and
flung him back in the kennel.

"The watch!" he cried, "the watch!"

They vanished like rats into their holes at the shout, leaving me
standing alone with him. The affair had come and gone so quickly that I
scarce caught my breath.

"Pardon, sir," he said, knuckling, "but I followed you."

It was Banks. For a second time he had given me an affecting example of
his faithfulness. I forg