elf for--blank him!
blank him!"

"Why, you stupid ninny! you forget you were dead; and he could not help
loving her. How could he? Well, but you see she refused him. And why?
because he came without a forged letter from YOU. Do you doubt her love
for you?"

"Of course I do. She never loved me as I loved her."

"Christopher, don't you say that before me, or you and I shall quarrel.
Poor girl! she lay, in my sight, as near death for you as you were for
her. I'll show you something."

He went to a cabinet, and took out a silver paper; he unpinned it, and
laid Rosa's beautiful black hair upon her husband's knees. "Look at
that, you hard-hearted brute!" he roared to Christopher, who sat,
anything but hard-hearted, his eyes filling fast, at the sad proof of
his wife's love and suffering.

Rosa could bear no more. She came out with her boy in her hand. "O
uncle, do not speak harshly to him, or you will kill me quite!"

She came across the room, a picture of timidity and penitence, with her
whole eloquent body bent forward at an angle. She kneeled at his knees,
with streaming eyes, and held her boy up to him: "Plead for your poor
mother, my darling. She mourns her fault, and will never excuse it."

The cause was soon decided. All Philip's logic was nothing, compared
with mighty nature. Christopher gave one great sob, and took his darling
to his heart, without one word; and he and Rosa clung together, and
cried over each other. Philip slipped out of the room, and left the
restored ones together.

I have something more to say about my hero and heroine, but must first
deal with other characters, not wholly uninteresting to the reader, I
hope.

Dr. Staines directed Phoebe Falcon how to treat her husband. No
medicine, no stimulants; very wholesome food, in moderation, and
the temperature of the body regulated by tepid water. Under these
instructions, the injured but still devoted wife was the real healer.
He pulled through, but was lame for life, and ridiculously lame, for he
went with a spring halt,--a sort of hop-and-go-one that made the girls
laugh, and vexed Adonis.

Phoebe found the diamonds, and offered them all to Staines, in expiation
of his villany. "See," she said, "he has only spent one."

Staines said he was glad of it, for her sake, for he must be just to his
own family. He sold them for three thousand two hundred pounds; but
for the big diamond he got twelve thousand pounds, and I believe it was
worth