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" "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. "I have not trusted you. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. He will not help them—and I told Emile so—and thus he sends them to my other grandpére, even that he knows he is dead. ” 240 “Then I’ll wait for you. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified.
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