\" \"Good night, Mom. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. \" \"Hi, I'm Lucy Albert. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself. But Bess could scarcely summon resolution enough to hazard the experiment; and it was only on Jack's urgent intreaties, and even threats, that she could be prevailed on to trust herself to the frail tenure of the rope he had prepared. See? You marry me. ‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered.
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