"Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish. " The spinsters stared at her blankly. She pulled the trigger. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. ‘Parbleu, do you think he will run away? He has a bullet inside him, and it must be taken out. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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