She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. " "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. I haven't forgotten her previous history. When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. Her English was halting. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient.
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