’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. . You cannot refuse me this. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender.
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