” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. The poor fellow's half smothered. ‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. “I want to show you something.
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