" "Probably Mr. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She is English! I am sure of that. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. " "You need never be afraid of that," returned Winifred, affectionately; "my father will take care you never leave him more. Kneebone's," remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood.
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