ok to his pipe with a strange sullenness, and
smoked furiously. His two friends, closely regarding him, saw that he
was unhappy, but wisely forbore to make him more unhappy still by
obtruding their condolence on him. The day had been rainy and cold. They
knew that Marcus's spirits were barometrically sensitive to the weather,
like those of most persons who look at it through a window.

They had noticed, as they came home, that he was reading that sweetest
of elegies, the "In Memoriam" of Tennyson. And the two friends thought
that the melancholy weather and the melancholy poem together fully
accounted for the gloom on his brow.

Marcus sat for some minutes meditating. Then he heaved a sigh, which was
distinctly audible to his two friends. Then he left the room without
saying a word, and went up stairs.

Presently he was heard to come down; but, instead of returning to the
little parlor, he went into the street, and closed the door with a sharp
slam. At the same moment, the cold rain of the April night beat noisily
against the window.

"Sly old fellow!" said Maltboy.

"Up to something, depend on it," said Overtop.

Marcus walked rapidly toward the inventor's house. "My fate is decided
to-night," he muttered.

His long strides soon brought him to the house. The old building wore a
gloomy look. He did not speculate on the reason of this. It was probably
because there was no light visible in any of the front windows, and very
little light in the street lamps. The gas burned low and blue, and
flickered in the wind.

Ringing the bell, Marcus was admitted by one of the numerous children
belonging to somebody in the house (Marcus could never determine to
whom), and walked up to the inventor's room. His heart beat with strange
emotion as he rapped at the door. For a moment he was sorry that he
had come.

"Come in," said the inventor, in a voice more sepulchral than usual.

Marcus entered the apartment. The inventor received him with a feeble
shake of the hand, bearing no resemblance to the hearty one which he
used to bestow in the early days of their acquaintance. Marcus noticed
that Mr. Minford's hand was hot. He also observed that his eyes were
preternaturally lustrous, and that the circles under them were deep and
dark. His cheeks were deathly pale, saving a little red spot in the
centres. He looked like a man in a state of fearful mental exaltation
and nervous excitement.

Marcus was not in the habit of worrying