You can go for a walk with Lucy. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. She looked steadfastly out. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. What is done cannot be undone.
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