Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. And not a worthy tome in sight. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. She knew, too, she must not hesitate.
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