” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know.
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