Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. CHAPTER I. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. .
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