He died; but death to the outcast was a boon. Faithful to the last, I remained until his parting sigh escaped. These hands closed his eyes; and I saw him interred as a pauper in the most neglected corner of an obscure churchyard. Had he no mourner? Yes; he had _one_. I forgot his crimes, and all the misery he had wrought me; and the outcast’s deserted grave was sprinkled with the tears of the woman he had betrayed. The fosterer was deeply affected. He pressed the poor mourner’s hand, and strove to cheer and comfort her. “Julia!” he said, “What do you intend to do? Where do you purpose going? May I protect you?” She raised her eyes, and gave him a look of gratitude, but shook her head. “Are you returning home, Julia?” “I am indeed about to seek a home,” she replied, with a long deep sigh. “It must be sought beside my father’s grave; and that once found, I’ll die there! Hush! footsteps are approaching; and now to resume a weary journey, and--a last one!” She rose, went to the little basin, and dipping her hands in the cooling water, bathed her burning temples, and washed away the traces of her tears. Marc Antony in silence lifted the bundle, and the youthful travellers once more gained the high road, when two persons, wayfaring like themselves, approached them. CHAPTER II. A GENERAL DISCOVERY. _“I was ta’en for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose._” Shakspere. |While Mark Antony and his companion are on the road, we must leave the man to take care of himself, and returning to the master, inquire whether in the interim any particular “ups and downs” had occurred in the fortunes of myself, Mr. Hector O’Halloran. I was left in bed--and where could a safer place be found wherein to deposit a light-headed young gentleman? But every body knows that general rules are not without exceptions--and, the circumstances considered, by which I had obtained possession of the quaker’s dormitory, I feel assured that the gentle reader will wish me a safe deliverance from the same. I will not enter into minute details of how the false positions of myself and Samuel Pryme were finally detected; but in the parlance of Tony Lumpkin’s respectable friend, who never danced a bear to unfashionable music, will sum them up in “a concatenation accordingly,” namely, the sleepy soliloquy of the chief butler of the worthy quaker.