you have money and everything."

"If I do, it will not be for your benefit, Mary, for you shall trifle
with him no more. I will not try for his discharge unless he faithfully
promises never to speak to you again."

"You don't say that--you don't mean that!" cried Mary, sweeping the hair
with her hand back from her forehead--and her hand still remaining on
her head--"O God! O God! what a wretch I am! Hear me, Jacob, hear me,"
cried she, dropping on her knees, and seizing my hands; "only get him
his discharge--only let me once see him again, and I swear by all that's
sacred, that I will beg his pardon on my knees as I now do yours. I
will do everything--anything--if he will but forgive me, for I cannot, I
will not live without him."

"If this is true, Mary, what madness could have induced you to have
acted as you have?"

"Yes," replied Mary, rising from her knees, "madness, indeed--more than
madness to treat so cruelly one for whom I only care to live. You say
Tom loves me; I know he does; but he does not love me as I do him. O,
my God! my heart will break!" After a pause, Mary resumed. "Read what
I have written to him--I have already written as much in another letter.
You will see that if he cannot get away, I have offered to go out with
him as his wife; that is, if he will have such a foolish, wicked girl as
I am."

I read the letter; it was as she said, praying forgiveness, offering to
accompany him, and humiliating herself as much as it was possible. I
was much affected. I returned the letter.

"You can't despise me so much as I despise myself," continued Mary; "I
hate, I detest myself for my folly. I recollect now how you used to
caution me when a girl. Oh, mother, mother, it was a cruel legacy you
left to your child, when you gave her your disposition. Yet why should
I blame her? I must blame myself."

"Well, Mary, I will do all I can, and that as soon as possible.
To-morrow I will go down to the depot."

"God bless you, Jacob; and may you never have the misfortune to be in
love with such a one as myself."

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

I AM MADE VERY HAPPY--IN OTHER RESPECTS A VERY MELANCHOLY CHAPTER,
WHICH, WE ARE SORRY TO INFORM THE READER, WILL BE FOLLOWED UP BY ONE
STILL MORE SO.

I left Mary, and hastened home to dress for dinner. I mentioned the
subject of wishing to obtain Tom's discharge to Mr Wharncliffe, who
recommended my immediately applying to the Horse Guards; and, as he was
a