Old Bedlam 291 IX. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. ’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. Both of them. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. .
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