"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. . Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. " "And, therefore, the first I would visit," replied Jack, boldly.
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