They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She appeared to be considering. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously.
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