er breast for the hundredth time. Certainly,
there was a pleasant coolness in the night air, but it is open to doubt
whether poor Jane had not nourished a hope that, wrong as it was on her
part, besides being unbecoming, John might by chance have repented and
turned back just to say a few words of parting. She confessed once that
she wished he would, and then she would wish him God-speed, and if he
wanted ten or twenty pounds, she would give notice at the savings' bank,
draw it out, and send it to him by letter. But not one word would she
say to stop him from going--no, not _one_ word. He should go, and no
doubt it would do him good, and break him of all his bad habits, and
"perhaps," she said, with a sob, "he may come back a good man, and we
may be--"

"Tst, Jane!--tst!"

For a few moments she could not move, the sound was so unexpected. She
had hoped that he might come back, but for days past she had given it
up, when now, making her heart leap with a joy she could not conceal,
came the welcome sound from the darkness beneath where she leaned.

She had not heard him come, for the reason that Mr John Gurdon had been
there for an hour before she had leaned out, and he had been stayed from
announcing his presence sooner by a light in a neighbouring window; but
now, that apparently all was still in the place, he gave utterance to
the above signal, one which he had to repeat before it was responded to
by a whispered ejaculation.

"How could I come, you cruel woman!" said Gurdon--"how can you ask me?
Hadn't you driven me by your hard-heartedness to make up my mind to go
abroad? but only to find when I'd got to the ship that I couldn't go
without saying one long `good-bye.' Oh, Jane!--Jane!--Jane!"

The remaining words were lost to Jane's ear, but she could make out that
he was sobbing and groaning softly, and it seemed to her, from the
muffled sounds, that Gurdon had thrown himself down upon his face, and
was trying to stifle the agony of his spirit, lest he should be heard,
and so get her into trouble.

Poor Jane! her heart yearned with genuine pity towards the erring man,
and her hands involuntarily stretched themselves out as if to take him
to her breast, which heaved with sobs of an affection as sincere as was
ever felt by the most cultivated of her sex.

"Oh, John!" she sobbed, "don't--don't!--please don't do that!"

"How can I help it?" he groaned. "Why am I such a coward that I don't
go and make a hol