Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. His example was followed by Darrell. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. You shall know the truth. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated.
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