“I am. She entered the room in the shadows. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily.
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