Wood, "it may be poisoned. Robert Dow, merchant tailor, it was appointed that the sexton of St. "To-night, your ladyship?" ventured an elderly domestic. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. Presently he heard her voice. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. .
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