The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. What do you say?” “I agree,” Anna said coldly, “if you will make it three months. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased.
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