"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour.
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