And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Then she came a few steps to meet him. 275 “Yes!” She answered, feeling joy and fear well in her chest. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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