‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. (“No, no. "Well, he's a pretty fellow at all events," observed Mrs. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. ” He started back as though he had been shot. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator.
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