"Confusion!" he cried; "something has happened. "We went through your belongings. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. " The little girl's countenance fell. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. "Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again.
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