"The want of love, or the want of money, lies at the bottom of all our griefs."--D'ISRAELI's Venetia. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. M.DCCC.XXXVIII. THE MAN WITHOUT SOUL. CHAPTER I. Strange is thy form, but more thy words are strange; MATURIN. It was late in the evening of the same day, and Ral h Jennings had not returned to his cottage. The logs of dry wood had been repiled, and the glowing hearth had been often replenished by the affectionate care of his young wife. The homely and frugal supper still lay untouched upon the humble board. It had been sedulously arranged and rearranged, from time to time, for the chance VOL. II. B of better temptation and comfort for the husband after his daily toil. The two elder children, accustomed to greet their father before retiring to rest, had far exceeded their usual hour. As long as twilight had afforded them a chance of espying the loiterer on his approach, they had stood together at the cottage door. Although the bleak, damp air of the winter's night penetrated the warm woollen which Mary had wrapped round them, and chilled their young limbs, darkness alone forced them to retreat within doors from their anxious watching. Many were the silent surmises of Mary Jennings at the prolonged and novel absence of her husband. All were unsatisfactory. The children were unable to check or conceal their unhappiness. They had not before known their indulgent father linger from home beyond the termination of the day's labour; they had never before marked anxiety, on account of his absence, darken the cheerful countenance of their mother. Children are creatures of feeling. Experience has not yet taught them the worldly |