Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. ” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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