bonnet, was a young woman in black. I didn't know her at first. The gas was right on her face, but I declare that I didn't know her. She looked straight over at me, and I thought what a white and thin and pretty face it, was, with large violet eyes and dark circles round 'em: but as true as you are there, Mr. Frank, I didn't know her for Rosaline. 'Mother!' says she, starting up: and I a'most fell on the nearest chair. 'What ever has come to you, child?' I says, as she steps round to kiss me! 'you look as though you had one foot in the grave.' At that she turns as red as a rose: and what with the bright colour, and the smile she gave, she looked a little more like herself. But there: if I talked till I tired you, sir, I could make out no more than that: she's looking desperately ill and wretched, and she won't come home again."

Frank made no rejoinder. The ironing went on vigorously: and Mrs. Bell's narrative with it.

"All I could say was of no use: back with me she

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