“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. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. ’ The things she said and did from you—seem impossible. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no.
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