‘Difficult, I grant you. He went to the door. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. "Not proud in the least, I declare. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. "I'll soon free you from these bracelets. . Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. ” She laughed. ’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. He then made off. Not a scar but has its history. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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