ce bears its secret but powerful testimony
against the individual thus charged home as Corbet was, sometimes
gives an awful, almost an appalling expression to the countenance. The
stranger, who knew that the man he addressed, though cunning, evasive,
and unscrupulous, was, nevertheless, hesitating and timid, saw by his
looks that he had produced an unusual impression; and he resolved to
follow it up, rather to gratify the momentary amusement which he felt at
his alarm, than from any other motive. In fact, the appearance of Corbet
was extraordinary. A death-like color, which his advanced state of life
renders it impossible to describe, took possession of him; his eyes lost
the bitter expression so peculiar to them--his firm thin lips relaxed
and spread, and the corners of his mouth dropped so lugubriously, that
the stranger, although he felt that the example of cowering guilt then
before him was a solemn one, could scarcely refrain from smiling at what
he witnessed.

"How far now do you think, sir," asked Corbet, "could punishment in such
a case go? Mind, I'm putting myself out of the question; I'm safe, any
how, and that's one comfort."

"For a reply to that question," returned the other, "you will have to go
to the judge and the hangman. There was a time when you might have asked
it, and answered it too, with safety to yourself; but now that time has
gone by, and I fear very much that your day of grace is past."

"That's very like what James tould me in my dhrame," said the old man,
in a soliloquy, dictated by his alarm. "Well, sir," he replied, "maybe,
afther all--but didn't you say awhile ago that you wouldn't give
sixpence for any information I could furnish you with?"

"I did, and I do."

A gleam of his former character returned to his eye, as, gathering up
his lips again, 'he said, "I could soon show you to the contrary."

"Yes; but you will not do so. I see clearly that you are infatuated.
It appears to me that there is an evil fate hanging over you, like some
hungry raven, following and watching the motions of a sick old horse
that is reduced to skin and bone. You're doomed, I think."

"Well, now," replied Anthony, the corners of whose mouth dropped again
at this startling and not inappropriate comparison, "to show how much
you are mistaken, let me ask how your business with Lord Cullamore
gets on? I believe there's a screw loose there?--eh? I mean on your
side--eh?"

It wasn't in his nature to restrain