Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. “I never dreamt!” she said. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the broad staircase. She said as much to him. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. Then her eyes flashed. My name is Annabel, not Anna. They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation.
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