What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted! On all sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. “Please come home. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you. “Thank you,” she said coolly. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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