" "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. He began to think of speeches, very firm, explicit speeches, he would make. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. Annabel shook her head. " "Peace!" cried the knight, fiercely. "My enemy," replied her son. They WERE weird. No; she'd never go back.
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