—Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. Then the distant relationship to Miss Stanley gave them a slight but pleasant sense of proprietorship in the girl. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. Blood, they say, won't come out. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls.
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