Sheppard, after a brief pause, during which she appeared overcome by her feelings,—she said, gently disengaging herself from the young girl's embrace, and speaking in a firm voice, "you must dissuade your father from this step. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. " "How do you spell the last name?" He spelt it. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. John Sheppard. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred.
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