"Very well, Mr. But those days are over—quite over. She told us that it was a disguise. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe.
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