She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. “Your mother was a Gypsy. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. “You must tell me the truth, please. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. Nothing would stop her, and she was prepared to face the consequences. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr.
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