Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

CHARLES COMES TO LIFE AGAIN. 313
but when he found himself inquired of by a handsome, welldressed young gentleman, obviously in search of a missing relative, a lying spirit entered into him, and he lied horribly. It
appeared that he had been the intimate and cherished comrade of
Charles Horton (of whom he had never heard in his life). That
they had ridden together, drunk together, and slept side by side.
That he had nursed him through the cholera, and then (seeing
no other way out of the maze of falsehood in which he had
entangled himself), that he assisted to bury him with his own
hands. Lastly, lying on through mere recklessness, into desperation, and so into a kind of sublimity, he led William'out of the
town, and pointed out to him Charles's untimely grave. When
he saw William pick some dry grass from the grave, when he
saw him down on his knees, with his cheek on the earth, then he
was sorry for what he had done. And, when he was alone, and
saw William's shadow pass across the blazing white wall, for one
instant, before he went under the dark gateway of the town, then
the chinking gold pieces fell from his hand on to the burning
sandy ground, and he felt that he would have given them and
ten times more, to have spoken the truth.
So Charles was dead and buried, was he? Not quite yet, if
you please. Who is this riding, one of a gallant train, along the
shores of the bay of Eupatoria towards some dim blue mountains? Who is this that keeps looking each minute to the right,
at the noble fleet which is keeping pace with the great scarlet
and blue rainbow which men call the allied armies? At the
great cloud of smoke floating angrily seaward, and the calm
waters of the bay beaten into madness by three hundred throbbing propellers?
CHAPTER LI.
IN WHICH CHARLES COMES TO LIFE AGAIN.
HA! This was life again. Better this than dawdling about
at the heels of a dandy, or sitting on a wheelbarrow in a mews!
There is a scent here sweeter than that of the dunghill, or the
dandy's essences,- what is it? The smell of tar and bilge water and red-herrings. There is a fresh whiff of air up this narrow street, which moves your hair, and makes your pulse quicker.
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