With a blush at his apparently causeless emotion, he stepped to the clerk who always stood next to Arthur, and inquired if he knew where he had gone. "No," the young man said; "he went out about half an hour ago, and Mr. Quirk was with him." "Quirk!" ejaculated Guly, involuntarily, while the pang went through his breast again; and seizing his cap, he started forth, in the hope of discovering Arthur's where-abouts. CHAPTER XVI. "Press me not, I beseech you, so; There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, So soon as yours could win me; so it should now, Were there necessity in your request, although 'Twere needful I denied it." Winter's Tale. Through the damp streets, where shone mistily through the heavy fog the lamps on the corners, Guly, with anxious heart and hurried step, wandered alone. He sought every place of which he believed his brother to have any knowledge, and left no spot unvisited where they had ever been together. All in vain. None of whom he inquired had seen Arthur, and of many he could not bring himself to inquire, blushing at the thought of his brother being known to them. Still, as he turned to retrace his steps, he found himself involuntarily looking into the richly furnished saloons, where the show of luxury, and display of wealth, lead so many, through their very love of gorgeousness, to drink, to distress, to death! Each time, as his eyes turned thitherward, a sigh of relief rose from his heart to find that Arthur was not an inmate there. Thus seeking, thus hoping, he found himself again before the door of No. --, Chartres-street. Having no pass-key, he rapped for admittance, for the store was closed, and all around it dark. Wilkins' voice bade him enter. Trying the door, he found it unlocked, and going in, saw Wilkins sitting by the coal fire--which the chill air of November now rendered necessary--alone, and apparently in deep thought. With as cheerful an air as he could assume, he approached him, and laying a hand upon each shoulder, as he stood behind his chair, bent forward, and looked up in the thoughtful eyes gazing on the fire. "What can be the subject of your meditations, Mr. Wilkins? your face looks sad enough to be the index of a sorrowful heart?" Mr. Wilkins made no reply, but lifting his arm, drew the golden head upon his bosom, and held it there, stroking back with listless fingers the soft bright curls. "Has anything unpleasant happened since I went out, Wilkins?" "No, Guly; nothing has happened. I was alone here--the fire was bright, the arm-chair empty, so I sat down, and fell to thinking, that's all. Have you been to see Blanche?" "Blanche! I don't suppose I could have found her, had I thought of trying." "True enough. We are going there together. What of your brother, Guly?"