Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. E. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. You understand me, I’m sure. And at the sight something leaped within her. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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