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‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. Austin, who had been evidently schooled by Wild, maintained a profound silence on this head. You know that. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves.
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