The young gentleman was shocked， endeavoured tosoften the lawyer’s clerk； that machine did not thoroughlycomprehend the meaning of the term. The lady’s name，however， was at last revealed by this untoward incident； fromher name to her address was but a short step， and the sameday our crestfallen hero lay in wait at her door， and many asucceeding day， without effect. But one fine afternoon sheissued forth quite naturally， as if she did it every day， andwalked briskly on the parade. Dolignan did the same， metand passed her many times on the parade， and searched forpity in her eyes， but found neither look nor recognition norany other sentiment； for all this she walked and walked till allthe other promenaders were tired and gone； then her culpritsummoned resolution， and， taking off his hat， with a voicefor the first time tremulous， besought permission to addressher. She stopped， blushed， and neither acknowledged nordisowned his acquaintance. He blushed， stammered out howashamed he was， how he deserved to be punished， how hewas punished， how little she knew how unhappy he was， andconcluded by begging her not to let all the world know thedisgrace of a man who was already mortified enough by theloss of her acquaintance. She asked an explanation； he told herof the action that had been commenced in her name； she gentlyshrugged her shoulders， and said， “How stupid they are！”
Emboldened by this， he begged to know whether or not a lifeof distant unpretending devotion would， after a lapse of years，erase the memory of his madness—his crime！
She did not know！
She must now bid him adieu， as she had some preparationsto make for a ball in the Crescent， where everybody was to be.
They parted， and Dolignan determined to be at the ball whereeverybody was to be. He was there， and after some time heobtained an introduction to Miss Haythorn and he danced withher. Her manner was gracious. With the wonderful tact of hersex， she seemed to have commenced the acquaintance thatevening. That night for the first time Dolignan was in love. Iwill spare the reader all a lover’s arts by which he succeededin dining where she dined， in dancing where she danced，in overtaking her by accident when she rode. His devotionfollowed her to church， where the dragoon was rewarded bylearning there is a world where they neither polk nor smoke，the two capital abominations of this one.
He made an acquaintance with her uncle， who liked him，and he saw at last with joy that her eye loved to dwell uponhim when she thought he did not observe her. It was threemonths after the Box Tunnel that Captain Dolignan called oneday upon Captain Haythorn， R.N.， whom he had met twicein his life， and slightly propitiated by violently listening to acutting-out expedition； he called， and in the usual way askedpermission to pay his addresses to his daughter. The worthycaptain straightway began doing quarter-deck， when suddenlyhe was summoned from the apartment by a mysteriousmessage. On his return he announced， with a total change ofvoice， that it was all right， and his visitor might run alongsideas soon as he chose. My reader has divined the truth； thisnautical commander， terrible to the foe， was in complete andhappy subjugation to his daughter， our heroine.
As he was taking leave， Dolignan saw his divinity glideinto the drawing-room. He followed her， observed a sweetconsciousness deepen into confusion； she tried to laugh， andcried instead， and then she smiled again； when he kissed herhand at the door it was “George” and “Marian” instead of“Captain” this and “Miss” the other.
A reasonable time after this （for my tale is merciful and skipsformalities and torturing delays） these two were very happy；they were once more upon the railroad， going to enjoy theirhoneymoon all by themselves. Marian Dolignan was dressedjust as before—duck-like and delicious， all bright except herclothes； but George sat beside her this time instead of opposite，and she drank him in gently from her long eyelashes.
“Marian，” said George， “married people should tell eachother all.
Will you ever forgive me if I own to you； no—”
“Yes， yes！”
“Well then， you remember the Box Tunnel？” （This was thefirst allusion he had ventured to it.） “I am ashamed to say I hadthree pounds to ten pounds with White I would kiss one of youtwo ladies，” and George， pathetic externally， chuckled within.
“I know that， George； I overheard you，” was the demurereply.
“Oh！ you overheard me！ Impossible.”
“And did you not hear me whisper to my companion？ Imade a bet with her.”
“You made a bet？ how singular！ What was it？”
“Only a pair of gloves， George.”
“Yes， I know； but what about it？”
“That if you did you should be my husband， dearest.”
“Oh！ but stay； then you could not have been so very angrywith me， love. Why， dearest， then you brought that actionagainst me.”
Mrs. Dolignan looked down.
“I was afraid you were forgetting me！ George， you willnever forgive me？”
“Sweet angel！ why， here is the Box Tunnel！”
Now， reader—fie！ no！ no such thing！ you can’t expect tobe indulged in this way every time we come to a dark place.
Besides， it is not the thing. Consider—two sensible marriedpeople. No such phenomenon， I assure you， took place. Noscream in hopeless rivalry of the engine—this time！
