"Oh, say not so," exclaimed Jane, gathering courage from his kindness; "you have been my benefactor, my guardian, my kindest friend; forgive my silence—I feel it all—I have always felt it; perhaps most, when I seemed most insensible, most reckless. Mr. Lloyd looked gratified beyond expression; it cost him an effort to interrupt her, for there is perhaps nothing more delightful than the merited praises of those we love. But he said, "Nay, my sweet friend, it will be my turn next, if thou dost not stop, and we shall indeed be, as the French name my brethren, a house of Trembleurs. I have a great deal to tell thee; our joys have clustered. What sayest thou Jane, to another walk to old John's, with as strange, and a more welcome guide, than your fitful night wanderer? I have no time to lose in enigmas; our despatches were brought by a sailor, a fine good-natured, hardy looking fellow, who came to my house this morning. I was wondering what he could be doing so far from his element, when Mary, who returned to us yesterday, opened the door for him, and exclaimed, with a ludicrous mixture of terror and joy, "The Lord have mercy on us! is it you, or your ghost. Jemmy?" The sailor gave her a truly professional, and most unghostly, smack, and replied between crying and laughing, "I am no ghost, Mary, as you may see; but excuse me, Mary, (for Mary had stepped back, a little embarrassed by the involuntary freedom of her friend) I was so glad, I could not help it. No, no, Mary, I am no ghost,
