whole lifetime could contain. But even in this indescribable happiness
there is a strange element of unrest, for it seems too good to last. Is
all great gladness haunted by this apprehension of evanescence? But at
any rate, I am happy now!"

"And I am almost happy in your happiness," responded his friend, his
face lighted up by an altogether new and beautiful smile.

"Sit down, then," said David, giving him a chair and standing opposite
to him, "and I will tell you my story."

Words cannot describe the emotion, nay the passion, with which he poured
that tragic narrative into the ears of his eager and sympathetic
listener.

Never was a story told to a more attentive and appreciative auditor.
There must have been some buried sorrow in that heart which had rendered
it sensitive to the griefs of others. Hours were consumed by this
narrative and by the questions which had to be asked and answered, and
it was long after midnight when David found time to say, "And now shall
I tell you my plans for the future?"

"Yes, if you will," said Mantel.

"Well, I have rented a sunny room in a lodging house in a quiet street,
and to-morrow, if you are willing, you shall go and lead him to it. I
must lean upon you, Mantel; I dare not make myself known to him. He
would never accept my aid if he knew by whom it was bestowed, for he is
proud and revengeful and would give himself no rest night or day until
he had my life, if he knew I was within reach. I do not fear him; but