unusual firmness of character; and his refusal to
explain himself in any way, is evidently no mere caprice of the moment.
All this leads to the conjecture that the injuries he has sustained were
inflicted on him from some motive of private vengeance; and that certain
persons are concerned in this disgraceful affair, whom he is unwilling
to expose to public odium, for some secret reason which it is impossible
to guess at. We understand that he bears the severe pain consequent
upon his situation, in such a manner as to astonish every person about
him--no agony draws from him a word or a sigh. He displayed no emotion
even when the surgeons informed him that the sight of one of his eyes
was hopelessly destroyed; and merely asked to be supplied with writing
materials as soon as he could see to use them, when he was told that the
sight of the other would be saved. He further added, we are informed,
that he was in a position to reward the hospital authorities for any
trouble he gave, by making a present to the funds of the charity, as
soon as he should be discharged as cured. His coolness in the midst of
sufferings which would deprive most other men of all power of thinking
or speaking, is as remarkable as his unflinching secrecy--a secrecy
which, for the present at least, we cannot hope to penetrate."

I closed the newspaper. Even then, a vague forewarning of what Mannion's
inexplicable reserve boded towards me, crossed my mind. There was yet
more difficulty, danger, and horror to be faced, than I had hitherto
confronted. The slough of degradation and misery into which I had
fallen, had its worst perils yet in store for me.

As I became impressed by this conviction, the enervating remembrance
of the wickedness to which I had been sacrificed, grew weaker in its
influence over me; the bitter tears that I had shed in secret for so
many days past, dried sternly at their sources; and I felt the power
to endure and to resist coming back to me with my sense of the coming
strife. On leaving the library, I ascended again to my own room. In a
basket, on my table, lay several unopened letters, which had arrived
for me during my illness. There were two which I at once suspected,
in hastily turning over the collection, might be all-important in
enlightening me on the vile subject of Mannion's female accomplice. The
addresses of both these letters were in Mr. Sherwin's handwriting. The
first that I opened was dated nearly a month back,