It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. E. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. The water was cold but she waded deeper. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. Ennison looked down on him in disgust.
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