"My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. Very good. Years ago I marked out an intinerary for myself; but the trip never materialized. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. " He had now gained the high road. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. "Instantly, Hobson," returned Lady Trafford; "as soon as the carriage can be brought round.
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