Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. " "I know you'll contradict it, Sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed,—"I know you will. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying.
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