"He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. You’re never going to believe this, by the way. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. "Mrs. ‘I did not think so. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse.
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