“As I have explained many a time, Lucia, the maladies of the blood and flesh do not afflict us. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us. ‘I must get a handkerchief. “Please stay,” she said briefly. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "This alters the case materially.
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