’ Even as they watched, a shadow passed across one of the apertures. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Pay fools with promises. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. "Winifred Wood will never marry, unless the grave can give up its dead. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good.
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