Howbeit he took his conceit,his sorrows,his curls,mustaches,broad shoulders,and fifty dollars into humble lodgings in a back street.The days succeeding this were the most restful he had passed since he left the "Half-way House."To wander through the town,half conscious of its strangeness and novel bustling life,and to dream of a higher and nobler future with Miss Mayfield--to feel no responsibility but that of waiting--was,I regret to say,a pleasure to him.He made no acquaintances except among the poorer people and the children.He was sometimes hungry,he was always poorly clad,but these facts carried no degradation with them now.

He read much,and in his way--Jeff's way--tried to improve his mind;his recent commercial experience had shown him various infelicities in his speech and accent.He learned to correct certain provincialisms.He was conscious that Miss Mayfield must have noticed them,yet his odd irrational pride kept him from ever regretting them,if they had offered a possible excuse for her treatment of him.

On one of these nights his steps chanced to lead him into a gambling-saloon.The place had offered no temptation to him;his dealings with the goddess Chance had been of less active nature.

Nevertheless he placed his last five dollars on the turn of a card.

He won.He won repeatedly;his gains had reached a considerable sum when,flushed,excited,and absorbed,he was suddenly conscious that he had become the centre of observation at the table.Looking up,he saw that the dealer had paused,and,with the cards in his motionless fingers,was gazing at him with fixed eyes and a white face.

Jeff rose and passed hurriedly to his side."What's the matter?"The gambler shrunk slightly as he approached."What's your name?""Briggs."

"God!I knew it!How much have you got there?"he continued,in a quick whisper,pointing to Jeff's winnings.

"Five hundred dollars."

"I'll give you double if you'll get up and quit the board!""Why?"asked Jeff haughtily.

"Why?"repeated the man fiercely;"why?Well,your father shot himself thar,where you're sittin',at this table;"and he added,with a half-forced,half-hysterical laugh,"HE'S PLAYIN'AT ME OVERYOUR SHOULDERS!"

Jeff lifted a face as colorless as the gambler's own,went back to his seat,and placed his entire gains on a single card.The gambler looked at him nervously,but dealt.There was a pause,a slight movement where Jeff stood,and then a simultaneous cry from the players as they turned towards him.But his seat was vacant.

"Run after him!Call him back!HE'S WON AGAIN!"But he had vanished utterly.

HOW he left,or what indeed followed,he never clearly remembered.