somewhat rude shake, and on looking up saw that a considerable
number of persons were around me.

"Stand up, my good fellow," cried a man, who, though in plain clothes
and unarmed, proclaimed by his manner of command that he was in
authority; "stand up, if you please."

I made an effort to obey, but sank down again upon the bench, faint and
exhausted.

"He wants a drink of water," cried one.

"He wants summut to eat,--that's what he wants," said a laboring man in
front of me.

"We'll take him where he'll be properly looked after," said the first
speaker. "Just stand back, good people, and leave me to deal with
him." The crowd retired as he spoke, while, coming nearer, he bent down
towards me and said, "Is your name Paul Gervois?"

"I have gone by that name," I replied.

"And is this in your handwriting?--Mind, you need n't say so if you
don't like; I only ask the question out of curiosity."

"Yes," said I, eagerly; "what does Mr. Pitt say?--what reply does he
make me?"

"Oh, you 'll hear all that time enough. Just try now if you could
n't come along with me as far as the road; I 've a carriage there
a-waiting."

I did my best to rise, but weakness again overcame me, and I could only
stammer out a few faint words of excuse.

"Don't you see that the man is dying?" said some one, half indignantly;
but the constable--for such he was--made some rough answer, and then,
stooping down, he passed his arm round me, and lifted me to my feet at
once. As he half carried, half pushed me along, I tried to obtain an
answer to my former question, "What reply had the minister made me?"

"You 'll know all that time enough, my good friend," was all the answer
I could obtain, as, assisting me into the carriage, he took his place at
my side, and gave the word to proceed "to town."

Not a word passed between us as we went along; for my part, I was too
indifferent to life itself to care whither he was conducting me, or with
what object. As well as utter listlessness would permit me to think, I
surmised that I had been arrested. Is it not a strange confession, that
I felt a sense of pleasure in the thought that I had not been utterly
forgotten by the world, and that my existence was recognized, even at
the cost of an accusation. I conclude that to understand this feeling
on my part, one must have been as forlorn and desolate as I was. I
experienced neither fear nor curiosity as to what might be the charge
against me; nor was my