s ever
proverbially short of memory; its sorrows poignant, but not enduring;
now the wounds are already scarring over--they will not reopen if they
are left to heal."

He had, at first, thought of hiding somewhere not so far but that once
a-week, or once a-month, he might have stolen into the grounds, looked
at the house that held her--left, perhaps, in her walks some little
token of himself. But, on reflection, he felt that that luxury would be
too imprudent, and it ceased to tempt him in proportion as he reasoned
himself into the stern wisdom of avoiding all that could revive her
grief for him. At the commencement of this tale, in the outline given
of that grand melodrama in which Juliet Araminta played the part of
the Bandit's Child, her efforts to decoy pursuit from the lair of the
persecuted Mime were likened to the arts of the skylark to lure eye and
hand from the nest of his young. More appropriate that illustration now
to the parent-bird than then to the fledgling. Farther and farther from
the nest in which all his love was centred fled the old man. What if
Jasper did discover him now; that very discovery would mislead the
pursuit from Sophy. Most improbable that Losely would ever guess that
they could become separated; still more improbable, unless Waife,
imprudently lurking near her home, guided conjecture, that Losely should
dream of seeking under the roof of the lofty peeress the child that had
fled from Mr. Rugge.

Poor old man! his heart was breaking; but his soul was so brightly
comforted that there, where many, many long miles off, I see
him standing, desolate and patient, in the corner of yon crowded
market-place, holding Sir Isaac by slackened string with listless
hand--Sir Isaac unshorn, travel-stained, draggled, with drooping head
and melancholy eyes--yea, as I see him there, jostled by the crowd, to
whom, now and then, pointing to that huge pannier on his arm, filled
with some homely pedlar wares, he mechanically mutters, "Buy"--yea, I
say, verily, as I see him thus, I cannot draw near in pity--I see what
the crowd does not--the shadow of an angel's wing over his grey head;
and I stand reverentially aloof, with bated breath and bended knee.

CHAPTER IV.

A WOMAN TOO OFTEN REASONS FROM HER HEART--HENCE TWO-THIRDS OF HER
MISTAKES AND HER TROUBLES. A MAN OF GENIUS, TOO, OFTEN REASONS FROM
HIS HEART-WENCE, ALSO, TWO-THIRDS OF HIS TROUBLES AND MISTAKES.
WHEREFORE, BETWEEN WOMAN AND