The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Oh, much better. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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