McClintock will be tuning up the piano to-day. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. What would happen when confronted by the actual? He was young; she was also young and physically beautiful—his lawful wife. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. She crept out of the shadows. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She was the High Priestess.
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