"Yes, loves, Winny. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. All these things spoke of peace;—but there are seasons when the pleasantest external influences have a depressing effect on the mind, by painfully recalling past happiness. "If any one's to blame, it's me. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. She repeated phrases of Mrs. .
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