” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. The perfume was the only one she ever used. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. “You must not. .
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