The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door. He returned to attend the funeral. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. Sheppard. F.
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