Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. . ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. Come home alone. An uncomfortable silence followed. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. “Then I don’t take this as final.
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