Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. But there was no sign from her. Anna herself opened the hall door. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. At last he could bear it no longer. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. But I shan't let him off thus. But this chap is good wine yet. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation.
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