Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hearing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to when two horsemen rode up. ” “Too much character, and too little sentiment,” he answered. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite.
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