“Speak to me, Fanny, tell me what is all this. I thought to give you great joy, and I only set you weeping. Tell me, what does all this mean?”
“Dear Cousin Charles,” said Fanny, “you have given me the greatest joy of my life.”
“Then you love Wilson, as I thought,” said Mr. Evans.
“No, no—not Wilson, but you, Cousin Charles; and you said you would rather have me for your wife than an angel.” And Fanny threw her arms around Charles Evans’s neck; and there is not a shadow of doubt that he would cheerfully have exchanged all the pleasures of his long bachelorate in a lump, for the kisses of the next five minutes.
They were a happy couple that evening; but Wilson’s prospects were worse damaged than his heart.
THE SLEEP OF THE DEAD.
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BY HENRY S. HAGERT.
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