“I do hope that I shall be able to make it up to you. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer. ” “My message is urgent,” he said firmly. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence.
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