’ ‘Lucky indeed,’ answered Gerald, glancing at the pair again. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam.
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