. . I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. Still, I am curious. Will you venture?" "It is a hazardous experiment," said Thames, after a moment's reflection; "but I will make it. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. I wish they would just get it over with. "Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs.
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