There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. The shock and distress were genuine. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. ” Lucy said. ” He drank. It had been discussed in silence. You'll be along next spring?" "If the old tub will float. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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