She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. But ——” A look checked him. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. Alban's to-night.
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