" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways.
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