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‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. . “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. He is delightful, is he not?’ ‘That will do, Lucilla. Our ideal had fallen. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. Hers were less noble, yet stately.
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