” As the long, solitary days wore on, Ann Veronica found a number of definite attitudes and conclusions in her mind. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. ’ ‘I don’t want to think it,’ he said, and she thrilled to the savagery in his tone. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready.
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