The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. Just one thing more. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. .
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