To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. For a few moments Mr. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. Mr. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. Don't you remember? There were four of us, and we went touring in the city. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now.
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