She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. "Yes, yes," replied Edgeworth Bess. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. His safety must be looked to.
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