" "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Earles remarked genially. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. "You are my prisoner, Jack. . The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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