‘Ah, grandpére. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously. ” She replied. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. “Both.
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