Their flitting hands were always touching. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. He was no match for Brendon. " "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan.
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