’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. John Sheppard. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. ” Mr. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book.
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