was rather to throw passion and impulse into the same scale
with circumstances, and take his chance of the result. He had little
power of anticipation, nor was his a mind that could calmly array facts
before it, and draw the inferences from them. No, he met the dangers of
life, as he would have done those of battle, with a heart undaunted, and
a spirit resolved never to turn back. The sullen courage of his nature,
if it did not suggest hope, at least supplied resolution--and how many
go through life with no other star to guide them!

At last the grey dawn of breaking day appeared above the house-tops,
and the low distant sounds that prelude the movement of life in great
cities, stirred faintly without.

"Thank heaven, the night is over at last," was Mark's exclamation, as he
gazed upon the leaden streak of cloud that told of morning.

All his preparations for departure were made, so that he had only to
descend to the stable, and mount his horse. The animal, he was told,
had formerly belonged to Talbot, and nothing save the especial favour of
Billy Crossley could have procured him so admirable a mount.

"He has never left the stable, sir," said Billy, as he held the stirrup
himself--"he has never left the stable for ten days, but he has wind
enough to carry you two and twenty miles within the hour, if you were
put to it."

"And if I were, Billy," said Mark, for a sudden thought just flashed
across him--"if I were, and if I should not bring him back to you, his
price is----

"I wouldn't take a hundred guineas for him from any man living save Mr.
Talbot himself; but if it were a question of saving him from danger, or
any man he deems his friend, then, then, sir, I tell you fairly, Billy
Crossley isn't so poor a man, but he can afford to do a generous thing.
Take him. I see you know how to sit on him; use him well and tenderly,
keep him until you find the time to give him back, and now a good
journey to you wherever you go; and go quickly, whispered Billy, for
I see two fellows at the gate who appear listening attentively to our
conversation.

"Take that in any case as a pledge," said Mark, as he pitched a purse,
containing above a hundred pounds in gold, towards Crossley, and before
the other could interpose to restore it, Mark had dashed his spurs
into the beast's flanks, and in another minute was hastening down
Thomas-street.

Mark had not proceeded far when he slackened his pace to a walk--he
remembered that i