The lines about his mouth gradually softened. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. Ask your own conscience. " "That's the way it goes. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. The boy she had loved was gone.
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