to bed. Sarah Stack put aside her work, and left the room. What a relief to that hidden caitiff! his feet, standing on the cold damp iron so many hours, bare of brogues, were mere ice, only that they ached intolerably: he had not dared to move, to breathe, and was all over in one cramp: he did not bring the brandy-bottle with him, as he once had planned; for calculation whispered," don't, your head will be the clearer; you must not muddle your brains," and so his caution over-reached itself, as usual; his head was in a fog, and his brains in a whirlwind, for lack of other stimulants than fear and pain. O Simon, how your prudence cheats you: five mortal hours of anguish and anxiety in one unalterable posture without a single drop of creature-comfort: and all this preconcerted too! CHAPTER XXVI. PRELIMINARIES. Ar last, just as the nephew was positively fainting from exhaustion, in came his kind old aunt to bed. She talked a good deal to herself, did Mrs. Quarles, and Simon heard her say, "Poor fellow, poor dear Simon, he was taken bad last night, and has seemed queerish in the head all day pray God nothing's amiss with the boy !" The boy's heart, (he was forty,) smote him as he heard: yes, even he was vexed that Aunt Bridget could be so foolishly fond of him. But he would go on now, and not have all his toil for nothing. "I'm in for it,” said he, and there 's an end." Ay, Simon, you are, indeed, in for it; the devil has locked you in ;-but as to the end, we shall see, we shall see. "I shouldn't wonder now," the good old soul went on to say, "if Simon's wenturd out without his hat to cool a headache: his grandfather, peace be with him, died, poor man, in a Lunacy 'Sylum: alack, Si, I wish you mayn't be going the same road. No, no, I hope not, he's always so prudent like, and wise, and good; so kind too, to a poor old fool like me:" and the poor old fool began to cry again. . "Silly boy,-but he 'll take cold at any rate: Sarah!" here Mrs. Quarles rung her bell, and the still-maid answered it. "Sarah Stack, sit and when he comes up awhile for Mr. Jennings, in, send him here to me. Poor boy," she went on soliloquising, "he shall have a drop or two to comfort his stomach, and keep the chill out." The poor boy, lying perdu, shuddered at the word chill, and really wished his aunt would hold her tongue. But she didn't. "May-be now," the affectionate old creature proceeded, "may-be Simon was vexed at what I let drop last night about the money. I know he loves his sister Scott, as I do: but it'll seem hard, too, to leave him nothing. I must make my will some day, I 'spose; but don't half like the job: it's always so nigh the scene, the feelers of us muu var bra.. hat first, and it was se tang Lai- g from his hiding-glare, tuing the bra-à America: but — deary me"-tha I DYS : I mustn't leave my own strong-box te 1 me, say nothing of hat and shoes: and 1 stop for anything, she'd raise the house. While this was passing through the immiste mind of Simon Jennings, Bridget had n cutting up an oid glove, and had made of its fingers into a very tidy little leather reklet; into this she deposited a bright half vereign, spoil of the day, being the douceur I a needy brushmaker, who wished to keep custom, and, of course, charged all these vails on the current bill for mops and stable-sponges "Ha!" muttered she, "it's your last here, Mr. Scrubb, I can tell you: so, bill ་་་་ were going to put me off with a crown-piece were you? and actually that bit of gold might |