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The verdict seemed to have deprived him, for a time, of all his moral and physical faculties. There he sat perfectly bewildered, and there he continued to sit till the candle had burned to the socket. This roused him from his reverie: he rose from his seat and folded the paper, and returned to the kitchen; but with his intellects still confused.

"Why, what in the world have you been after?" cried cook, as he entered the kitchen with thought on his brow.

"Dont talk," replied Judkins. "Don't talk. My head's full."

"But here's a time you've been. I thought you never was coming. What have you been about?"

"My head's full, I tell you. Don't bother—I'm stunned."

"Well, but what on earth is the matter. I suppose there's no occasion to keep it all to yourself."

"If I could, I'd give a pound out of my own blessed pocket."

"Well, come take some beer," said cook, passing the mug, in the fond expectation of melting him thus. "You don't look at all the thing. What will you have for supper?"

"Two thousand pounds," muttered Judkins, indignantly.

"What say?"

"Nothing: I was talking to myself."

"But I want you to talk to me! Wouldn't you like now something nice for supper?"

"No; nothing—nothing: I don't want nothing."

"Oh, but you shall have something," said cook, who went to the pantry, and soon returned with the remains of a couple of chickens and some ham. "Judkins," she added, having duly placed these delicacies before him, "I know you have something on your mind;—what is it? You don't ought now to keep anything from me; for, although we're not married, we very soon shall be, and your cares now is my cares, Judkins, just as much as they will be then."

"Old girl," replied Judkins, whom this appeal softened, and who had engaged to marry cook as soon as a very old man, who kept a public-house in a neighbouring village, died, "don't make yourself by no means oneasy about me. My cares is not on my own account; but on account of one who's been very ill used."

"What, Mr. Sylvester?"

"Yes."

"Has he been ill used?"

"Dreadful."

"The wretches. Who are they?"

"I know who they are, and so does he."

"Highway robbers, I suppose."

"A million times worse than highway robbers."

"Well, but did they hurt him much?"

"Not in person, but in pocket. They robbed him of two thousand pounds."

"Two thousand! You astonish me. Two thousand pounds! How came he to be so foolish as to carry so much money as that about with him?"