of the proffered reward, joined to the threats of the sire, had made him become seriously anxious to learn the real fate and present “whereabout” of Paul; how, the last time he had seen the father, he had, by way of propitiation and first fruit, taken to him all the papers left by the unhappy mother and secreted by himself; and how he was now delighted to find that Ned was acquainted with Paul's address. Since he despaired of finding Paul by his own exertions alone, he became less tenacious of his secret; and he now proffered Ned, on discovery of Paul, a third of that reward the whole of which he had once hoped to engross. Ned's eyes and mouth opened at this proposition. “But the name,--the name of the father? You have not told me that yet!” cried he, impatiently. “Noa, noa!” said Dummie, archly, “I does n't tell you all, till you tells I summut. Vhere's little Paul, I say; and vhere be us to get at him?” Ned heaved a sigh. “As for the oath,” said he, musingly, “it would be a sin to keep it, now that to break it can do him no harm, and may do him good, especially as, in case of imprisonment or death, the oath is not held to be binding; yet I fear it is too late for the reward. The father will scarcely thank you for finding his son!---Know, Dummie, that Paul is in jail, and that he is one and the same person as Captain Lovett!” Astonishment never wrote in more legible characters than she now displayed on the rough features of Dummie Dunnaker. So strong are the sympathies of a profession compared with all others, that Dummie's first confused thought was that of pride. “The great Captain Lovett!” he faltered. “Little Paul at the top of the profession! Lord, Lord! I always said as how he'd the hambition to rise!” “Well, well, but the father's name?” At this question the expression of Dummie's face fell; a sudden horror struggled to his eyes-- CHAPTER XXXV. Why is it that at moments there creeps over us an awe, a terror, overpowering but undefined? Why is it that we shudder without a cause, and feel the warm life-blood stand still in its courses? Are the dead too near? FALKLAND Ha! sayest thou! Hideous thought, I feel it twine O'er my iced heart, as curls around his prey The sure and deadly serpent! ............ What! in the hush and in the solitude Passed that dread soul away? Love and Hatred.