"As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. Do you have family that I should ask?” “Oh, Julian! No, my family is dead, lost. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. She told you —the truth. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. “We’ve made out but we haven’t had sex. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. ” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried.
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