Mr. “Act three. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide. ” “And I,” Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to look into his eyes, “I will tell you what I have wished for you when we meet six months from to-day.
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