A dreamy sense of content crept over him. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. Her anger died and she eyed him. He had not noticed the girl particularly when she offered the sandwiches; but in this moment he found her beautiful. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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