" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. ” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. She is English, and apparently in some distress. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. Pah! What a pig is this générale.
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