the monster!"

"Travelling carriages having arrived at the door for the bridal party,
Herbert quietly departed."

"What!" exclaimed Sophia, "did they not arrest and drag him to
prison?"

"Oh," replied Jack, "the crime was not so atrocious as it appears."

"Not atrocious!"

"No; you must bear in mind that young Philipson had passed the
preceding five years of his life amongst demi-savages, whose manners
and customs he had, to a certain extent, necessarily contracted. In
some countries, what we call crimes are only regarded as peccadillos.
In France, for example, till very lately, there existed what was
called the law of _combette_, by right of which pardon might be
obtained for any misdeed on payment of a certain sum of money. There
was a fixed price for every imaginable crime. A man might
consequently be a Blue Beard if he liked, it was only necessary to
consult the tariff in the first instance, and see to what extent his
means would enable him to indulge his fancy for horrors."

"On quitting the house," continued Wolston, "Herbert Philipson bent
his way to the shore, and shortly after was observed to plunge into
the sea."

"So much the better," exclaimed Sophia; "it saved his friends a more
dreadful spectacle."

"The weather being fine and the water warm, Herbert enjoyed his bath
immensely; he then returned to his hotel, went early to bed, and slept
soundly till next morning."

"The wretch!" cried Sophia, "to sleep soundly after assassinating his
old playfellow, who had suffered so much on his account."

"It is pretty certain," continued Wolston, "that, if Philipson had
been left entirely to himself, he would always have shown the same
degree of moderation he had hitherto displayed."

"Oh, yes, moderation!" said Sophia.

"But his friends began to prate to him about the shameful way he had
been jilted by Cecilia, and, by constantly reiterating the same thing,
they at last succeeded in persuading him that he was an ill-used man.
His self-esteem being roused by this silly chatter, he began to affect
a ridiculous desolation, and to perpetrate all manner of outrageous
extravagances."

"Bad friends," remarked Willis, "are like sinking ships; they drag you
down to their own level."

"The first absurd thing he did was to purchase a yacht, and when a
storm arose that forced the hardy fishermen to take shelter in port,
he went out to sea, and it is quite a miracle that he escaped
drowning. Then, if there were