” He stalked around the room. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. “Come sit with me, beautiful. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't.
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