It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. "Your sympathy is being wasted. ToC The household of the worthy carpenter, it may be conceived, was thrown into the utmost confusion and distress by the unaccountable disappearance of the two boys. All I had to do was to piece them together. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. Her faith in human beings revived.
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