She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. Wood—and after him came his daughter. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice.
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