Wait a little; rest. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love.
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