Thank God, I've been able to do something to-night for a good woman--I owe so much to another of her kind.

No; don't speak--just walk quietly and"-- jerking his thumb in the direction of the fluting nightingales--"listen to that.

God! the man who could think evil things when a nightingale sings, isn't fit to stand even in the Devil's presence." Dollops looked at him--half-puzzled, half-awed.

He could not understand the character of the man: there were so many sides to it; and they came and went so oddly.

One minute, a very brute-beast in his ferocity, the next, a woman in his tenderness and a poet in his thoughts.