And the hunter home from the hill. If only Gerald would come. "I don't know. ’ ‘Woof!’ uttered the sergeant, jumping back. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. You’d make a good Devil. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. I have now settled my affairs, and made every preparation for my departure to France, where I shall spend the remainder of my days.
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