’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. ’ ‘Do not say so. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "A mother's prayers—a mother's blessings," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, "will avail against a fiend's malice. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. " But he searched in vain. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased.
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