The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. He reeled, and crashed to the floor. “But about last night. “I wish you would not do it. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. “He will probably make a statement to-night. If you choose to requite me by detaining me, you are at liberty to do so. This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. She smiled. I sent a message straight. She would take this one back with her. "And now, farewell, Mr.
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