"I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony.
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