“I was frightened then,” she declared. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. She would have to leave very soon. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. Doctor says depositions to-night. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it.
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