“MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. "I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity. She has also been afflicted with occasional returns of her terrible malady. ' But I don't value that, because I think it applies to one who marries a widow with encumbrances; and that's not my case, you know. " "But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. I don’t believe in the faults. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. I spoke a thought aloud. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company.
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