‘Precisely. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. " "Pshaw! you'd do as much for me any day, and think no more about it. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd.
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