You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. And Mr. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are. It was no wonder, there was no money to buy food for the house. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone.
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