‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. "Hist!" exclaimed Jack. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. Don't be afraid, man,—off with it. You keep on coming truer, after you have seemed to come altogether true. There was no one to be seen. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. Send for Mr.
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