But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. ’ Reminiscence made him smile. Before her was a great Gothic portal. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will. I told her it was the end. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. You might be able to use the picture some day.
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