The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. With her foodle doo! "I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. ” They clambered down the hill together.
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