persuaded of
his innocence; and, after he had given what help he could in the
subsequent investigations, he was even complimented by one of the chiefs
of the detective department on the probity and simplicity of his
behaviour. Several persons interested themselves in one so unfortunate;
and soon after he inherited a sum of money from a maiden aunt in
Worcestershire. With this he married Prudence, and set sail for Bendigo,
or, according to another account, for Trincomalee, exceedingly content,
and with the best of prospects._

STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS

The Reverend Mr. Simon Rolles had distinguished himself in the Moral
Sciences, and was more than usually proficient in the study of Divinity.
His essay "On the Christian Doctrine of the Social Obligations" obtained
for him, at the moment of its production, a certain celebrity in the
University of Oxford; and it was understood in clerical and learned
circles that young Mr. Rolles had in contemplation a considerable
work--a folio, it was said--on the authority of the Fathers of the
Church. These attainments, these ambitious designs, however, were far
from helping him to any preferment; and he was still in quest of his
first curacy when a chance ramble in that part of London, the peaceful
and rich aspect of the garden, a desire for solitude and study, and the
cheapness of the lodging, led him to take up his abode with Mr. Raeburn,
the nurseryman of Stockdove Lane.

It was his habit every afternoon, after he had worked seven or eight
hours on St. Ambrose or St. Chrysostom, to walk for a while in
meditation among the roses. And this was usually one of the most
productive moments of his day. But even a sincere appetite for thought,
and the excitement of grave problems awaiting solution, are not always
sufficient to preserve the mind of the philosopher against the petty
shocks and contacts of the world. And when Mr. Rolles found General
Vandeleur's secretary, ragged and bleeding, in the company of his
landlord; when he saw both change colour and seek to avoid his
questions; and, above all, when the former denied his own identity with
the most unmoved assurance, he speedily forgot the Saints and Fathers in
the vulgar interest of curiosity.

"I cannot be mistaken," thought he. "That is Mr. Hartley beyond a doubt.
How comes he in such a pickle? why does he deny his name? and what can
be his business with that black-looking ruffian, my landlord?"

As he was thus