Wood, in indignant surprise. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. "Here are a pair of gloves and a nosegay for you. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. " "By Heaven!" cried Kneebone, with increasing fervour, "it is true—as true as my affection for you. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes.
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