” She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the card was still attached. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty,—a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman's existence,—whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty,—a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. Suspicion was in his face. . “I am. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once. Mercifully, the Peters had moved to Rhode Island about six months after the tragedy.
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