” Lucy could tell that Michelle was lying by the way her pupils reacted, no longer following the sunlight. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. \" Lucy said. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. "When did you see him, my love?" "A short time ago," replied the housekeeper, unsuspiciously. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. You wore a blue dress with your hair unbound, and never had I seen a maid so glorious with eyes so blue or a smile so bright. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about.
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