It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. “I have learned that. \" She said. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. Go, and let him in. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. "Good work. I might have told you the truth.
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