Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. But you are Annabel. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid.
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