She kissed Lucia’s cheeks and patted her growing belly upon rising, to which her new husband disapproved, but Lucia loved the attention and adoration. Disappointed puppy-love, and all that. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered.
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