She trembled
with the helpless confusion of the night when the veteran cast the eyes
of indulgence on her for the last time, and gave her a kiss on the cheek
at parting. The next minute she felt him help her into the cart, and
pat her on the back. The next, she heard him tell her in a confidential
whisper that, sitting or standing, she was as straight as a poplar
either way. Then there was a pause, in which nothing was said, and
nothing done; and then the driver took the reins in hand and mounted to
his place.
She roused herself at the parting moment and looked back. The last sight
she saw at St. Crux was old Mazey wagging his head in the courtyard,
with his fellow-profligates, the dogs, keeping time to him with their
tails. The last words she heard were the words in which the veteran paid
his farewell tribute to her charms:
"Burglary or no burglary," said old Mazey, "she's a fine-grown girl, if
ever there was a fine one yet. What a pity! what a pity!"
THE END OF THE SEVENTH SCENE.
BETWEEN THE SCENES.
PROGRESS OF THE STORY THROUGH THE POST.
I.
_From George Bartram to Admiral Bartram._
"London, April 3d, 1848.
"MY DEAR UNCLE--One hasty line, to inform you of a temporary obstacle,
which we neither of us anticipated when we took leave of each other at
St.
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