" "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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