"I beg your pardon," I answered, withdrawing from his arm, "I walked over to the H---- office to meet you, and saw you walk off in this direction. I had no particular object in following you, and perhaps ought not to have done it." "I spoke too hastily," he said, almost immediately. "Forget it, Richard. You pounced upon me so unexpectedly, you gave me a nervous shock--irritated my combativeness, I suppose. I thought, of course, you had returned to the hotel, and feeling too restless to go back to my little bedroom, there, I determined to try the effect of a ride across the river. The bracing air has toned me up. I believe I can go back and sleep"--offering his arm again, which I took, and we slowly retraced our steps to the Metropolitan. I will not pain the heart of my reader by forcing him to be one of the mournful procession which followed Henry Moreland to his untimely grave. At two o'clock of Tuesday, all was over. The victim was hidden away from the face of the earth--smiling, as if asleep, dreaming of his Eleanor, he was consigned to that darkness from whence he should never awaken and find her--while the one who had brought him low walked abroad under the sunlight of heaven. To give that guilty creature no peace was the purpose of my heart. James resolved to return to Blankville by the five o'clock train. He looked sick, and said that he felt so--that the last trying scene had "used him up;" and then, his uncle would surely want one of us to assist him at home. To this I assented, intending myself to stay in the city a day or two, until Mr. Burton was prepared to go out to Blankville with me.