" "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. As pretty as its owner. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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