"He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. ” “It can’t prevent our loving.
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