He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. Answering him was agonizing. I wonder. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. “No, I’m not a virgin.
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