She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Giles! "Devil seize the woman!" growled the singer, as he brought his ditty to a close; "will nothing tempt her out? Widow Sheppard, I say," he added, rising, "don't be afraid. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament.
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