E. Q. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She almost sprang to her feet. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. Why did I not realise it at once? It just shows how one should not judge by appearances. “In five minutes I shall be ready. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter.
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