"Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. "Bring the light, Nab. “I cannot keep silence any longer. Hope reared.
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