She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. " Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you.
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