The boy was right. She rose to the fire to stoke it. Everything in the world had changed for her. The villain has enjoyed his security too long. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Want to see Mr. You did not learn that in a convent. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr.
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