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It was the language of the Arapahoes, and out of his vague memory of the tongue, spurred to recollection by the swift emergency, Hamlin growled a hoarse answer, hanging breathlessly above the motionless body until the "ugh!" of the fellow's response proved him without suspicion. He waited, counting the seconds, every muscle strained with expectancy, listening.

John; he hurried to the sweeper, laid his hand on his patchwork coat, and said breathlessly, "You see that coach turning into the square? Follow it, find out where it sets down. There's a sovereign for you; another if you succeed. Call and tell me your success. Number Curzon Street! Off, like a shot!" The sweeper nodded and grinned; it was possibly not his first commission of a similar kind.

But a mocking spirit suggested to one of the guests at this luncheon-party an energetic historical tutor the wish to enlighten M. Renan as to how the University was governed, the intricacies of Convocation and Congregation, the Hebdomadal Council, and all the rest. The other persons present fell at first breathlessly silent, watching the gallant but quite hopeless adventure.

Aunt Mary cried breathlessly. "Has he got someone with him? Run, Lucinda, an’ bring her in. She needn’t wipe her feet, tell her; you can brush the hall afterwards. Well, why ain’t you hurryin’?" Lucinda was hurrying, her curiosity being as potent as the commands of her mistress, and five seconds later Janice appeared in the door with her predecessor just behind her—a striking contrast.

Those pictures were filled with a strange sense of sin, and the mind that contemplated them was burdened with the decadence of Rome and with the passionate vice of the Renaissance; and it was tortured, too, by all the introspection of this later day. Margaret listened, rather breathlessly, with the excitement of an explorer before whom is spread the plain of an undiscovered continent.

Polly was much disturbed; but as everyone else was flying about also, she bore it as long as she could, knowing that Tom had made a martyr of himself, and feeling grateful to him for the sacrifice. "Oh, do stop now; this is dreadful!" cried Polly, breathlessly, after a few wild turns.

The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened the door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, "Where is Arthur?" Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply. "He is not in, Miss Davis," the woman answered. "Where is he?" Helen cried. "I do not know," was the response. "He has gone." "Gone!" And the girl started back, catching at her heart. "Gone where?"

The fur trader spoke rapidly, almost breathlessly, and pointed to the band of Indians they were in pursuit of, who, observing that their pursuers had halted, also drew rein on the edge of a belt of thick forest that extended for miles into the mountains. They appeared to wait, in order to ascertain what their enemies meant to do.

She leaned forward breathlessly to suggest turning back; but Allison, perhaps anticipating her feeling, said: "Now don't you get cold feet, Cloudy Jewel. If Aunt Ellen is sore, just you talk up to her, and smile a lot, and we'll back you up. Remember everything's, going fine, and the whole thing's settled. It's too late to change it now. Is this the place? We'll turn right in, shall we?"

With misty eyes Gertrude slowly lifted the cover from the box. Wrapped in a twist of cotton was a ring set with several large diamonds. "Is it marked 'Gertrude'?" asked Dorothy breathlessly. Miss Merriam nodded. Below the ring lay a miniature, the portrait of a fair woman with deep blue eyes. It was set round with brilliants and on the gold back was engraved, "Gertrude Merriam."