His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. "I forgot. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. "It gladdens me to hear you talk thus, Joan," said Wood, in a voice of much emotion, while his eyes filled with tears, "and more than repays me for all I have done for you. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face.
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