"I have," replied Wild; "and nothing but the evidence of my senses would have made me believe he was living, after the positive assurance I received to the contrary. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. It is simply our point of view which is altogether different. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. " "Have I ever broken my word in such matters, that he dares put the question?" rejoined Jonathan sternly. The Lord have mercy upon you!" This ceremony concluded, the calvacade was again put in motion.
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