" "I'm sorry. Mrs. " To-morrow! She never beheld it. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. Sheppard,—"pray let me go. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery.
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