“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. " With this, they dismounted; and fastening their horses to a tree, proceeded towards the house. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. "Miss Enschede and Mr. . ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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