At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Marvel, therefore, remained on his probation. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. McClintock. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind.
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