Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. Wood. In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. It was easy to discern Gianfrancesco’s mood. "There!" cried Mrs. ” Lucy said. ’ ‘In a somewhat roundabout fashion, if you ask me,’ came in a mutter from her old nurse, very much in her usual style. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat.
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