Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. I don’t classify. Mr. Her husband finally relented. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. “She means to go. I’ve muddled all this business.
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