Darrell attempted to reply. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. I was—I was a corespondent. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. Why did you let him have it?" "Let him have it? I can't stand at the elbow of any of the guests and regulate his or her actions.
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