Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. ” “But—” “He left her alone. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. Supper was over.
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