Wood became sensible that he was not alone. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. ” She smiled at him. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. And I want him out of uniform. ‘Rather would I die than fall in with such a plan. It had gone with the rest. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. Something about this woman rather reminds me of our hostess. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. " CHAPTER XI.
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