"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. “I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. Our ideal had fallen.
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