And the hunter home from the hill. That’s about the beginning. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. Just beyond there would be her heart's desire. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him.
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