“I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. I just wanted a breath of air. " In spite of her displeasure, Winifred could not help smiling at the absurdity of this address. ‘What a catalogue. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. ” “You like me?” “Yes. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill.
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