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It struck dismay into all their hearts; and on Sarah's opening the door at the same moment, Nell's question to the dog was now put to her. "Where's Master Bob?" The girl started back in astonishment. "Law, mum!" said she, addressing her mistress, Mrs Gilmour. "Ain't he with you, mum?"

Clara so absorbing was her grief could with difficulty regain her power of thought. She felt alone in the world. Had General Caulfield been at home, she would have had him to consult; but she had no confidence in her Aunt Sarah's judgment, though she had of late been more guided by her than she was aware of.

She knelt upon Lady Sarah's breast, and held her down with the force and resolution of a fiend, though the blood burst from the ears of her victim and filmed her staring eyes; nor did the pitiless fingers relax until the murderess knew her vengeance was complete.

Daniel had long catered for himself, and a rasher of bacon, with an egg, suited him much better for supper than hot biscuits, preserves, and five kinds of cake. Still, he did not complain, and did not understand that Sarah's fare was not suitable for the child, until Dr. Trumbull told him so. "Don't you let that child live on that kind of food if you want her to live at all," said Dr. Trumbull.

Regarding the copy of verses also pinned on to the box, which the device in question was intended to illustrate, there could be no mistake; the verses, indeed, being a replica of an original poem, preserved in the Bobo-Nellonian archives and entitled, "Sarah's forget-me-nots," wherewith the reader has been already made acquainted.

Sarah's boys, without in the least understanding what it all meant, began to weep also and to use their handkerchiefs, so smooth and shining they were useless as so much legal-cap writing paper. Their misery would have been enhanced had they known that out in the wagon-shed under cover of the Elder's voice the other boys were having a game of mummelly peg in the warm, dry ground.

Zo I wude." She took his knotted hand, discoloured with the labour of eighty years, and bade him farewell. "Thee be a lucky maid," said Happy Jack, closing his eyes. The tears were yet glistening on Sarah's long lashes, when she met the doctor on his way to the cottage she had just quitted.

It had happened that Sarah's husband died of his own excesses a few weeks before the birth of Templeton's child, she having herself just recovered from her confinement; Sarah was therefore free forever from her husband's vigilance and control. To her care the destined heiress was committed, and her own child put out to nurse.

"You know, John, you would argue entirely the other way round if you happened to be in love with Sarah," she said. "To be sure," said John; "it's my trade to argue for the side which retains my services. I am your servant, thank Heaven, and not Sarah's. And I have no intention of quitting your service," he added, more gravely. "We have settled the question of the future."

I at first feared that I should have great difficulty in reconciling myself to the change; and my reflections in Sarah's dark pocket were of the most gloomy cast. I dreaded poverty and neglect. How should I, accustomed to the refinements of polished life and the pleasures of cultivated society, endure to be tossed about with no home of my own, and perhaps no one who really cared for me?