"My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile.
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