conception how miserable he was.

And now appeared a figure which we must acknowledge as our
acquaintance of the former festival. It was Gervayse Hastings,
whose presence had then caused so much question and criticism, and
who now took his place with the composure of one whose claims were
satisfactory to himself and must needs be allowed by others. Yet his
easy and unruffled face betrayed no sorrow.

The well-skilled beholders gazed a moment into his eves and shook
their heads, to miss the unuttered sympathy--the countersign never
to be falsified--of those whose hearts are cavern-mouths through
which they descend into a region of illimitable woe and recognize
other wanderers there.

"Who is this youth?" asked the man with a bloodstain on his
conscience. "Surely he has never gone down into the depths! I know
all the aspects of those who have passed through the dark valley.
By what right is he among us?"

"Ah, it is a sinful thing to come hither without a sorrow," murmured
the aged lady, in accents that partook of the eternal tremor which
pervaded her whole being "Depart, young man! Your soul has never
been shaken, and, therefore, I tremble so much the more to look at
you."

"His soul shaken! No; I'll answer for it," said bluff Mr. Smith,
pressing his hand upon his heart and making himself as melancholy as
he could, for fear of a fatal explosion of laughter. "I know the
lad well; he has as fair prospects as any young man about town, and