She thought her niece very hard and very self-possessed and self-confident. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. ” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. ‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. ‘Say it. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn.
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