"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. They are not your children, they never were. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ” “That’s the comfort of you. She opened her mouth and inhaled water. ‘You can if you like. Oh God! my limbs fail me. Do you know that this becomes a habit?” “If you would only teach us all,” he murmured, “how to acquire it. “It seems—It’s interesting. .
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