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"He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot. He drew her away from this thought. “Dear John,” she whispered. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. “This is the slavery of the veiled life.
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