“I suppose I shall have to write an answer. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. And while her son was reconveyed to prison the body of the unfortunate Mrs. Sebastian rose from the tomb. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten.
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