" The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. " Neither spinster noticed the reluctance in the tones. "It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. " He ignored the command. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. " "This way, sir. . She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon.
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