She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Wood in the deepest mourning. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. "Quite captivated, Ma'am," added Mr. “It is a pity that as nations we are not more friendly. Only she hadn’t. Mr.
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