CHAPTER XIV. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. “Did you tell him?” Capes smiled faintly. I'm crazy over music, too. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. It’s an emerald. But, egad! I believe he will. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. Something seemed awry. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair.
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