'They have escaped the troubles of life, and plunged into those of eternity;' and then, as if willing to give Rust an opportunity of explaining away the singular character of the remark, he said: 'I hope _you_ do not meditate suicide?' 'No,' replied Rust, quietly, 'not at present; but I've often thought that many a wrecked spirit will find _there_ what it never found on earth--peace.' 'The body may,' returned the other, 'but not the soul.' Rust smiled doubtfully, and walked off. The man watched, and even followed him; but seeing him turn from the river, he took another direction, occasionally pausing to look back. Not so Rust. From the time he had parted with the stranger, he had forgotten him, and his thoughts wandered back to their old theme. It was strange that he should believe so implicitly Grosket's tale, coming as it did from one whom he knew hated him. Yet he _did_ believe it. There was proof of its truth in Grosket's manner; in his look; in his tone of assured triumph. Yet although Rust brooded over nothing else that livelong day, he could not realize it; he could not appreciate how desolate and lonely he was. He could only fancy how life would be, if what Grosket had told him _had_ happened. 'This is not all a dream, I suppose,' muttered he, pausing as he went, and passing his hand across his forehead. 'No, no; I'm awake--wide awake; and _I_ am Michael Rust; that's more strange than all.' After hours of wandering, he found himself at his office. He ascended the stairs, opened the door, and went in. It was dark, for the lights had been twinkling in the shop-windows before he left the street; but he sat down without observing it; and there he remained until Kornicker came in with a light. Rust made no reply to the salutation which he received. Kornicker placed the light on the table; and after loitering round the room, and busying himself with a few papers which he had arranged on the table, to give it a business-like appearance, he asked: 'Do you want me any more, to-night?' 'No; you may go.' The dismissal and departure of Mr. Kornicker were almost simultaneous. His heavy foot went thumping from step to step, and finally the street-door banged after him. Rust sat without moving, listening to every tramp of his heavy foot, until the door shut it out. 'So, he's gone,' said he, drawing a long breath, and cuddling himself up on his chair. 'He'll be in my way no more to-night.' He shivered slightly; and then got up and drew his chair nearer the grate, although there was no fire in it. 'And _this_ is then the end of my scheme,' muttered he; 'I have gone on for years in the same beaten track, fighting off all who could interfere with me. The affection of those who would have loved me; friends, relatives, those nearest to me, with the same blood in our veins, nursed in the same arms, who drew life from the same source; this cold heart has repulsed, until they have all abandoned me!'