An Old Flame
"I beg your pardon," I said, brokenly. "He was so good to me—I became so attached to him. You forget I am originally of his class."
"I did forget it," replied Theobald, looking relieved at my new tone, "and I beg your pardon for doing so. Hush! They are bringing him down. I must have a drink before we start, and you'd better join me."
There was no pretence about his drink this time, and a pretty stiff one it was, but I fancy my own must have run it hard. In my case it cast a merciful haze over much of the next hour, which I can truthfully describe as one of the most painful of my whole existence. I can have known very little of what I was doing. I only remember finding myself in a hansom, suddenly wondering why it was going so slowly, and once more awaking to the truth. But it was to the truth itself more than to the liquor that I must have owed my dazed condition. My next recollection Is of looking down into the open grave, in a sudden passionate anxiety to see the name for myself. It was not the name of my friend, of course, but it was the one under which he had passed for many months.
I was still stupefied by a sense of inconceivable loss, and had not raised my eyes from that which was slowly forcing me to realize what had hap-
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