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. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. " Ruth stood with drawn brows; she was trying to recall. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. So this is why I was chosen, because of the babies. After all there are other things.
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