CHAPTER VIII.

HE TRIAL OF PAUL WITHERS.

nter has rolled away with its dark nd bitter nights, and dense, damp The poor have starved, the rich have ; school-boys have suffered considerfrom chilblains; children in courts lleys have suffered considerably from and hunger. At last, however, it is

or nearly so; and it is an early, t, and mild Spring, and everybody is cheerful, and very much pleased, be

is a great murder case to be

everybody is confident that the

"I enquired first for him; I saw him." Reginald's lip trembled, and he bit it hard, and then went on again. "He told me his mother had been kindly cared for by some good people in Craigshire. She has taken lodgings near Paul, and visits him daily. I wonder her excitability does not kill Paul and herself also."

"Indeed!" said Felix in a low tone, "it's most terrible to me. I've not seen him, of course, and I contrive to keep out of my mother's way. I should never be noticed at all if it were suspected that I was connected with the Withers, the murderer. Fortunately, we have seen so little of each other of late years, that I think it's not known at all. I should not be asked here if it were!!! It's a horrible affair. Pray don't speak of it in a tone above a whisper. Walls have ears, you know."

"A fact in architectural history that I was not aware of," said Reginald, drily; "and I suppose it is a phantasy to imagine that all men have some human feeling.

At any rate, you appear to be an exception."

"Mr. Wylde," said Felix, touching his arm, "you're rich; you've made your fortune. It can be no disgrace for you to admit that you were Paul's first patron; but poor me, just struggling up, it's very hard it is, indeed!!! I deny everywhere that I am any connexion of the Withers's, and if you disgrace me I'll go abroad. What rich girl would marry a murderer's brother?"

Reginald gave a long, low, whistle, which was very ill-behaved in a ball-room, and then he glanced in the direction of Miss Goldenheart. "I honor your prudence, your self-possession. I envy the temperament that places you beyond the reach of any human sufferings not absolutely physical. I am here to study you as a model of unconcern. You should have lived in the reign of terror, Sir. Your stoical qualifications would have had ample opportunity for display. You might have danced at a

ball while the tumbril was carrying your mother to execution in the next street. Good night, Mr. Felix. Go on and prosper."

Now you know what Felix Withers said.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE TRIAL OF PAUL WITHERS.

THE winter has rolled away with its dark days and bitter nights, and dense, damp fogs. The poor have starved, the rich have feasted; school-boys have suffered considerably from chilblains; children in courts and alleys have suffered considerably from cold and hunger. At last, however, it is gone, or nearly so; and it is an early, bright, and mild Spring, and everybody is very cheerful, and very much pleased, beis a great murder case to be everybody is confident that the

cause

tried