“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. “Now replace the stone, my child. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. She is in the hall now. He'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head.
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