The theme was a masquerade. Wood started to his feet. Piercing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. "We were close upon him when he suddenly disappeared. "We never suffer him to mention Mr. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear.
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