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Rh hearts,"—we must give a glance towards the interior of the inhospitable mansion of the ex-solicitor.

It was towards evening, the sufferer was supported on a sofa, and the beautiful Mrs. Welford, who had officiated as his nurse, was placing the pillow under the shattered limb. He himself was attempting to seize her hand, which she coyly drew back; and uttering things sweeter and more polished than she had ever listened to before. At this moment, Welford softly entered; he was unnoticed by either; and he stood at the door contemplating them with a smile of calm and self-hugging derision. The face of Mephistophiles regarding Margaret and Faust, might suggest some idea of the picture we design to paint; but the countenance of Welford was more lofty (as well as comelier) in character, though not less malignant in expression than that which the incomparable Retsch has given to the mocking fiend. So utter, so congratulatory, so lordly was the contempt on Welford's dark and striking features, that though he was in that situation in which ridicule