Jonathan shook his head. Listen. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed,—the presence of the mangled corpse,—the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required,—all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl's imagination. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother.
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