“I do not know you,” she said coldly. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. “I have not the least idea who he is. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. " "And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. She almost sprang to her feet. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt.
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