There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. She was suddenly grave.
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