The latter still declined to speak, for he felt perfectly aware, from this incoherent outburst, that although Fenton had seen him only two or three times, many years ago, when the unfortunate young man was scarcely a boy, yet he had often heard his voice, and he consequently avoided every possibility of giving the former a clew to his identity.

At length Fenton broke silence.
"What was I saying ?" he asked.

"Did I talk of that multitudinous limbo called hell?
Well, who knows, perhaps there may be a general jail delivery there yet; but talking of the thing, I assure you, sir, I feel a portion of its tortures.

Like Dives--no, not like the rich and hardened glutton--I resemble him in nothing but my sufferings.

Oh! a drink, a drink--water, water--my tongue, my mouth, my throat, my blood, my brain, are all on fire ?" Oh, false ambition, to what mean and despicable resources, to what low and unscrupulous precautions dost thou stoop in order to accomplish thy selfish, dishonest, and heartless designs! The very gratification of this expected thirst had been provided for and anticipated.