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“Oh, very well,” answered Johnny.,

Bob was facing the way in which they were going and he was conscious that it was like sliding down a great hill, for the cable above him dipped towards the center. There was little time for thought, however, as the bucket lost no time in gathering headway. At one moment it was almost still, the next it was whistling through the air.,

“Good work,” said Mr. Whitney as the boy came up. “Water slackened just in time.” Then he turned to Rutherford.,

Some things about these visits were rather tiresome. Not exactly with Uncle Isaac, though you had to be a bit careful with him, too; but there was that fussy housekeeper of his, Miss Melling. One was never sure which door she would poke her nose out of and call: “Walk quietly, Johnny. Shut the door softly. Have you wiped your feet thoroughly, Johnny boy?”

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Pshaw! how silly people were! And now came Olea, the cook from his own home, weeping and wailing aloud. When she saw him she was ready to drop with astonishment. “Oh, you angel John! Are you risen from the dead? They brought us word that you were drowned.”,

They arose with the dawn, and continued their journey, continually terrified with the apprehension of encountering the duke's people. At noon they arrived at Azulia, from whence the monastery, or abbey of St Augustin, was distant only a few miles. Madame wrote to the Padre Abate, to whom she was somewhat related, and soon after received an answer very favourable to her wishes. The same evening they repaired to the abbey; where Julia, once more relieved from the fear of pursuit, offered up a prayer of gratitude to heaven, and endeavoured to calm her sorrows by devotion. She was received by the abbot with a sort of paternal affection, and by the nuns with officious kindness. Comforted by these circumstances, and by the tranquil appearance of every thing around her, she retired to rest, and passed the night in peaceful slumbers.,

Beauty ate her supper with a good appetite. She had lost almost all her fear of the monster, but she almost died of fright, when he said, "Beauty, will you be my wife?",

Soothed by the presence of madame, the assiduity of the nuns, and by the stillness and sanctity of the place, her mind gradually recovered a degree of complacency to which it had long been a stranger. But notwithstanding all her efforts, the idea of Hippolitus would at intervals return upon her memory with a force that at once subdued her fortitude, and sunk her in a temporary despair.