Sheppard staggered forward. She was making it up. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr.
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