"It is long since the novel-reading world has had reason so thoroughly to congratulate itself upon the appearance of a new work as in the instance of 'Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles' It is a fine work; a great and artistic picture."--Morning Post.
Another minute, and one of the servants ushered a gentleman into the room. It was not an old guy, however, as Jane saw at a glance with a distinct feeling of relief. A tall, gentlemanlike man of five or six and twenty, with thin aquiline features, dark eyes, and a clear, fresh complexion. A handsome man, very prepossessing.
"You see I have soon availed myself of your permission to call," said he, in pleasant tones, as he took Francis Tait's hand, and glanced towards Jane with a slight bow.
"My sister Jane, sir," said Francis. "Jane, this is Mr. Halliburton."
Jane for once lost her self-possession. So surprised was she--in fact perplexed, for she did not know whether Francis was playing a trick upon her now, or whether he had previously played it; in short, whether this was, or was not, Mr. Halliburton--that she could only look from one to the other. "Are you Mr. Halliburton?" she said, in her straightforward simplicity.
"I am Mr. Halliburton," he answered, bending to he