Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind. Surely she could ignore him. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. Your pets are gone. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. ‘Poor Hilary. Out of the beaten track! He must not appear too eager.
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