She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. You met Sir Rowland at the house of a Romisch priest, Father Spencer. I don’t want to bother you, of course. " "I'm satisfied with your assurance," replied the carpenter, drily. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. ‘I feared as much. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more.
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