“She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. The gallows is in view—I see it with all its hideous apparatus!—ough!" and shuddering violently, she placed her hands before her, as if to exclude some frightful vision from her sight. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. I trust that she will not misunderstand me.
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