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Rh "My dear, I never heard you speak like that before. The true gentleman is the soul of honour. Blood always tells."

"Yes; and sometimes cries to heaven for vengeance!" Gwyneth spoke with vehemence. "What a picture is this!" and she read in tones of mingled pity and indignation—

"My dear," said Mrs. Dowling, "how your voice trembles! You enter too fully into the feelings of these mere creations of the imagination. Your nerves are too finely strung."

The girl read on, of the last missive of that other broken-hearted maiden—

The old dame wiped her eyes and spectacles, saying, as she curiously scanned the girl's face—

"Gwyneth, darling, I believe you have a history. You have been badly treated some time or other."

"Perhaps I have," replied the girl, shortly; "but what is that? I am only a plain common girl!"

As, after an hour's reading, Gwyneth stepped quickly with beating heart towards her home, glad to be free from the guileless but garrulous old soul, the returning