which decorated the sides of the shop.

Among those who always stopped and gazed as she passed by, which was
generally three or four times a day, was a well-dressed female,
apparently about forty years of age, straight as an arrow, with an
elasticity of step, and a decision in her manner of walking, which was
almost masculine, although her form, notwithstanding that it was tall
and thin, was extremely feminine and graceful. Sometimes she would fix
her eyes upon me, and there was a wildness in her looks, which certainly
gave a painful impression, and at the same time so fascinated me, that
when I met her gaze, the paper which contained the powder remained
unfolded, and the arm which was pouring out the liquid suspended.

She was often remarked by Timothy, as well as me; and we further
observed, that her step was not equal throughout the day. In her latter
peregrinations, towards the evening, her gait was more vigorous, but
unequal, at the same time that her gaze was more steadfast. She usually
passed the shop for the last time each day about five o'clock in the
afternoon.

One evening, after we had watched her past, as we supposed, to return no
more till the ensuing morning, for this peeping in, on her part, had
become an expected occurrence, and afforded much amusement to Timothy,
who designated her as the "mad woman," to our great surprise, and to the
alarm of Timothy, who sprang over the counter, and took a position by my
side, she walked into the shop. Her eye appeared wild, as usual, but I
could not make out that it was insanity. I recovered my
self-possession, and desired Timothy to hand the lady a chair, begging
to know in what way I could be useful. Timothy walked round by the end
of the counter, pushed a chair near to her, and then made a hasty
retreat to his former position. She declined the chair with a motion of
her hand, in which there was much dignity, as well as grace, and placing
upon the counter her hands, which were small and beautifully white, she
bent forwards towards me, and said, in a sweet, low voice, which
actually startled me by its depth of melody, "I am very ill."

My astonishment increased. Why, I know not, because the exceptions are
certainly as many as the general rule, we always form an estimate of the
voice before we hear it, from the outward appearance of the speaker; and
when I looked up in her face, which was now exposed to the glare of the
argand lamp, and witnessed the cada