"And now to dispose of our dead. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. ” “What!” he asked; “not a kiss?” She affected not to hear. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. For a space he rode the whirligig. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. ” “Friends!” said her father. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715.
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