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"Heaven be praised she knows me at last. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. ” He paused, and went on, after a keen look at her: “I had rather gossip to a really intelligent girl than to any man alive. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. I didn't understand then, but I do now. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together.
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