“And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. If they become bad it is through inclination, not necessity. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. Aliva Trencher.
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