tle--more than a little,
already?"

"O, Simon, what a brute I am, and what a fool!" answered the girl,
bursting into tears. And then the painter knew that his ship had gone
down, and the waters had closed over it for evermore. That evening his
aunts thought Simon in better spirits than usual. Nina, though
she went to bed before the rest, had never found him kinder, more
cheerful, more considerate. He spoke playfully, good-humouredly, on
various subjects, and kissed the girl's forehead gravely, almost
reverently, when she wished him good-night. It was such a caress as a
man lays on the dead face that shall never look in his own again. The
painter slept but little--perhaps not at all. And who shall tell how
hard he wrestled with his great sorrow during those long hours of
darkness, "even to the breaking of the day"? No angel sat by his bed
to comfort him, nor spirit-voices whispered solace in his ear, nor
spirit-sympathy poured balm into the cold, aching, empty heart; but
I have my own opinion on such matters, and I would fain believe that
struggles and sufferings like these are neither wasted nor forgotten,
but are treasured and recorded by kindred beings of a higher nature,
as the training that alone fits poor humanity, then noblest, when most
sorrowful, to enter the everlasting gates and join the radiant legions
of heaven.

CHAPTER XXIII

ANONYMOUS

Lord Bearwarden finds himself very constantly on guard just at
present. Her ladyship is of opinion that he earns his pay more
thoroughly than any day-labourer his wages. I do not myself consider
that helmet, cuirass, and leather breeches form the appropriate
appliances of a hero, when terminating in a pair of red morocco
slippers. Nevertheless, in all representations purporting to be
life-like, effect must be subservient to correctness of detail; and
such was the costume in which his lordship, on duty at the Horse
Guards, received a dispatch that seemed to cause him considerable
surprise and vexation.

The guard coming off was mustering below. The relief coming on was
already moving gallantly down Regent Street, to the admiration of all
beholders. Armed was his lordship to the teeth, though not to
the toes, for his batman waited respectfully with a pair of high
jack-boots in his hand, and still his officer read, and frowned, and
pulled his moustache, and swore, as the saying is, like a trooper,
which, if he had only drawn on his boots, would not have been