" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. “This stirs one. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. "I guessed what was coming. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. This is part of a dream— some evil fancy. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter.
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