While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “Like a stab. " "Palliate them as you may," replied the widow, gravely, "they were faults; and as such, cannot be repaired by a greater wrong. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. When is the game?\" She did her best to overhaul her own appearance for 63 the greater part of an hour, blotting lips, fluffing the brush over her face. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure.
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