Then she reverted to the trousers. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. "I don't know his name. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood.
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