Lucy entered the room. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. Morality is a point of view. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. She elected to go to prison.
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