"Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. ’ Fury was in her face. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. Then she would be dead, and that was no use. “What’s that for?” He said. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. A bad sign; it signified that the heart action was in a precarious state. ‘Wait! No time for that. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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