She struggled against it quite uselessly. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. The doctor's lessons, perhaps delivered with too much serious emphasis, had destroyed that buoyant confidence in her ability to take care of herself. Take me! take me!" "Before an hour you shall be mine," said Jonathan advancing towards her. As Mrs. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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