He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. ” “My wife was astounded—wounded beyond measure. "I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. "It is open," replied the lady, rushing towards it, and springing through the outlet. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance.
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