Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. . There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. ’ Lucilla frowned. ” She appraised him. He brought his mother to call, and as you know the Countess goes scarcely anywhere. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home.
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