May I come home and try to be a better daughter to you? “ANN VERONICA. The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. You cannot draw. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. That was something in his favour.
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