’ ‘Listen. " "I wish you hadn't mentioned her," said Jack, in a broken voice, while his whole frame shook with emotion. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. ’ ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t have cared. "Of course," rejoined the bystander, who had just spoken, and who was of a cynical turn,—"the greater the rascal, the better they like him.
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