Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. I wanted the time with you. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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