"Nor you to go to Shleenanaher," said I, as we shook hands and parted for the night.
It was quite two hours after this when I began to undress for bed. I suppose the whole truth, however foolish, must be told, but those two hours were mainly spent in trying to compose some suitable verses to my unknown. I had consumed a vast amount of paper—consumed literally, for what lover was ever yet content to trust his unsuccessful poetic efforts to the waste basket?—and my grate was thickly strewn with filmy ashes. Hitherto the Muse had persistently and successfully evaded me. She did not even grant me a feather from her wing, and my 'woeful ballad made to my mistress' eyebrow' was amongst the things that were not. There was a gentle tap at the door. I opened it, and saw Dick with his coat off. He came in.
"I thought I would look in, Art, as I saw the light under your door, and knew that you had not gone to bed. I only wanted to tell you this. You don't know what a relief it is to me to be able to speak of it to any living soul—how maddening it is to me to work for that scoundrel Murdock. You can understand now why I flared up at him so suddenly ere yesterday. I have a strong conviction on me that his service is devil's service as far as my happiness is concerned—and that I shall pay some terrible penalty for it."
"Nonsense, old fellow," said I, "Norah only wants to see you to know what a fine fellow you are. You won't
