She could no longer wait. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. " "To be sure you are," replied Jonathan, laughing. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. She dare not risk it. ’ At last. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. We men are like children. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. " "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations.
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