Mrs. ’ ‘Let’s. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. ” “It might become one,” he answered. He turned, expecting to see his wife. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet.
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