carried, down the ladder; and deposited in safety on the attic
landing. Here he began to come to himself, wiped his brow, and at
length, seizing Somerset's hand in both of his, began to utter his
acknowledgments.

'This seals it,' said he. 'Ours is a life and death connection.
You have plucked me from the jaws of death; and if I were before
attracted by your character, judge now of the ardour of my
gratitude and love! But I perceive I am still greatly shaken.
Lend me, I beseech you, lend me your arm as far as my apartment.'

A dram of spirits restored the plotter to something of his
customary self-possession; and he was standing, glass in hand and
genially convalescent, when his eye was attracted by the dejection
of the unfortunate young man.

'Good heavens, dear Somerset,' he cried, 'what ails you? Let me
offer you a touch of spirits.'

But Somerset had fallen below the reach of this material comfort.

'Let me be,' he said. 'I am lost; you have caught me in the toils.
Up to this moment, I have lived all my life in the most reckless
manner, and done exactly what I pleased, with the most perfect
innocence. And now--what am I? Are you so blind and wooden that
you do not see the loathing you inspire me with? Is it possible
you can suppose me willing to continue to exist upon such terms?
To think,' he cried, 'that a young man, guilty of no fault on earth
but amiability, should find himself involved in such a damned
imbroglio!' And placing his knuckles in his eyes, Somerset rolled