"My poor Guly! alas, I dare not promise myself to make another attempt to do better; my pride is my misfortune; and I feel as if the hopes and promises of all my young life were dead. I am wretched, wretched!"
At this moment Quirk entered the store; and as Arthur looked up, he caught the leer of significant meaning, sent from a quick wink of the eye, and a momentary elongation of the visage, of his late companion.
He smiled in return, but at the same moment blushed deeply, as if ashamed to be seen exchanging significant glances with such a being. He also gently withdrew the arm which was about his brother, and moved a little away from him. The clerks now began rapidly to fill their respective places, and the brothers started forth, accompanied by Wilkins, to the restaurant. Wilkins observed, that at breakfast Arthur helped himself freely to claret, and drank heartily, as if to satisfy a burning thirst. He made no remark upon it, however, and the meal was altogether a sad and silent one. All were reflecting upon the events of the past night, a subject which each felt a peculiar sensitiveness about broaching, and with the mere table ceremonies, which even in such a place the brothers did not fail to observe, the breakfast was finished.
As was frequently the case, Wilkins was the first to be through, and as soon as he had taken the last mouthful, he took his hat and started for the store, as if there was something painful in the silence which had fallen over them. Though left to themselves, the brothers did not resume the subject they had been discussing before Quirk's appearance, and though Guly longed to ask about the bruise standing out blue and prominent on his brother's brow, he could not frame the words with which to ask the question. He felt, too, that the knowledge might bring him much more trouble and uneasiness, than the unexplained sight of the blow,
and they passed forth into the street, with linked arms, but divided hearts, and turned their steps toward the store.
They had gone but a short distance, when Guly's attention was attracted by a gathering crowd upon the opposite side of the way, and, with a natural feeling of curiosity, he hastened across the street, accompanied by Arthur, to discover the cause of the excitement.
What was his astonishment, to see extended upon the pavement, face downwards, while with his long arms he swept his crutches around him, like a pair of oars, to keep his tormentors, the boys, away, his old acquaintance, the dwarf. He had evidently fallen down, and in his descent had dropped his greasy cap, from which had rolled a few of his precious picayunes. He either was unable to rise, or else would not do so, lest while he was engaged in righting himself, the boys should rob him of his scattered silver. They had gathered about him at his fall, but he had swung his long crutches so dexterously around him, keeping his one eye fixed gloatingly upon the bits of change meanwhile, that not one dared to approach him closer.
The moment Guly's eye fell upon him, he hastened forward with an exclamation of pity upon his lips, and in spite of the crutches, he stepped behind the unfortunate old man, and raised him to his feet. Without hesitation he commanded the boys to leave the picayunes untouched, placed the cane properly in the dwarf's hand, then restored
to him the cap, and its scattered contents, at the same time adding a trifle from his own purse, to the little stock.