The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. And now, let's see who'll refuse the pledge. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him.
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