” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. I am loved. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. " "Poh, poh, my dear! Mr. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs.
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