"In the hall," replied Charcam. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. She was nearly dead. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say.
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