1. " CHAPTER V. "No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. "But why didn't you make yourself known at once?" "I'd forgotten the office you hold in the Mint, Baptist," replied Rowland. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them.
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