“Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. ” “Yes. He had said so. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. So he found her when he came round the corner of the spinney. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. Fear nothing. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam.
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