On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley.
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