Ennison,” she said. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. ” She came closer. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. " The elderly domestic bowed, took up the case, and retired. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her.
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