And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. ‘For my part, I am in no hurry to end this exciting little adventure. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. Dolby was portly and handsome. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. “Thanks, so do you.
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