Her perfect confidence in her lover soon banished Annie’s grief. He would return. He might be tried, she told herself, but he would leave the court in robes of white, so to speak, able to look any man in the face, without spot or stain on his character. Then they would be wedded.
A whole month flew by, during which—so terrible is justice—an expedition was sent to San Francisco overland, with policemen, to meet the Wolverine there, and at once to capture their man.
They waited and waited a weary time. Six months flew by, nine months, a year; still she came not, and at last she was classed among the ships that ne’er return.
Reginald Grahame will never be seen again—so thought the ’tecs—“Till the sea gives up the dead.”
Chapter Seven.
Buying the Bonnie Things.
To say that Annie was not now in grief would be wrong. Still hope told a flattering tale. And that tale sufficed to keep her heart up.