“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. Would she were alive to back my suit!" "This is beyond all endurance," said Winifred, striving to withdraw her hand. "Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. ” “Uh.
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