"Hush! not here--not here." "I understand," said Henry.
"Let her sleep." There was a silence of some few minutes duration.

Flora had dropped into a deep slumber.

That silence was first broken by George, who said,-- "Mr.Marchdale, look at that portrait." He pointed to the portrait in the frame to which we have alluded, and the moment Marchdale looked at it he sunk into a chair as he exclaimed,-- "Gracious Heaven, how like!" "It is--it is," said Henry.

"Those eyes--" "And see the contour of the countenance, and the strange shape of the mouth." "Exact--exact." "That picture shall be moved from here.

The sight of it is at once sufficient to awaken all her former terrors in poor Flora's brain if she should chance to awaken and cast her eyes suddenly upon it." "And is it so like him who came here ?" said the mother.
"It is the very man himself," said Mr.Marchdale.