It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. He placed his chin upon the top of her head. 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. " "'The avenger of blood himself shall slay the murderer'," said Wood, who was culling for himself certain texts from the scriptures. ” Ennison’s voice shook a little. It was the gallows. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us.
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