She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. ” “Alive,” Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror. “But—your people!” she gasped. “P. God bless you, anyhow!" she added, with a spontaneity which surprised Sister Angelina into uttering an individual gasp. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend.
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