Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear. I admit it. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken.
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