There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. " "I shouldn't call her queer. You understand me, Charcoal.
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