"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Come along with us in the morning. All these things spoke of peace;—but there are seasons when the pleasantest external influences have a depressing effect on the mind, by painfully recalling past happiness. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. On your own. “Just seems like a nice place to get away to, especially since it seems to attract pretty girls. ” “Will you remember me?” “Unfortunately.
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