APRIL'S LADY.
"Must we part? or may I linger? Wax the shadows, wanes the day." Then, with voice of sweetest singer, That hath all but died away, "Go," she said, but tightened finger Said articulately, "Stay!"
CHAPTER I.
"Philosophy triumphs easily over past and over future evils, but present evils triumph over philosophy."
"A letter from my father," says Mr. Monkton, flinging the letter in question across the breakfast-table to his wife.
"A letter from Sir George!" Her dark, pretty face flushes crimson.
"And such a letter after eight years of obstinate silence. There! read it," says her husband, contemptuously. The contempt is all for the writer of the letter.
Mrs. Monkton taking it up, with a most honest curiosity, that might almost be termed anxiety, reads it through, and in turn flings it from her as though it had been a scorpion.