"That's no answer." Disappointment was overshadowing her life. She was not aware that her father had rejected him as a suitor, and there had stolen into her mind solemn wonderings and hopes that sometime, somewhere, the deepest longings of her heart might be realized. She had nothing against Harold Wrenford. On the contrary, she saw much in him to admire. His English voice and manner reminded her in many ways of Randall's. Notwithstanding his unpopularity with the neighbors and her brothers, her soft heart and susceptible spirit were well calculated to respond to the slight ebullitions of tender regard which he had on several occasions ventured to manifest, but which she ever resented. 体彩排列三12098期 The essay, perhaps on account of the passage about the Psalms, created quite a sensation, and on the whole was well received. Ernest鈥檚 friends praised it more highly than it deserved, and he was himself very proud of it, but he dared not show it at Battersby. He knew also that he was now at the end of his tether; this was his one idea (I feel sure he had caught more than half of it from other people), and now he had not another thing left to write about. He found himself cursed with a small reputation which seemed to him much bigger than it was, and a consciousness that he could never keep it up. Before many days were over he felt his unfortunate essay to be a white elephant to him, which he must feed by hurrying into all sorts of frantic attempts to cap his triumph, and, as may be imagined, these attempts were failures. 鈥淚n matters like that, no, ma tante,鈥?said F茅lise. 鈥淣either higher nor lower,鈥?was the answer, 鈥渢han those people whom I can find to have been the best in all ages. But let us change the subject.鈥?He put his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter. 鈥淢y father,鈥?he said, 鈥済ave me this letter this morning with the seal already broken.鈥?He passed it over to me, and I found it to be the one which Christina had written before the birth of her last child, and which I have given in an earlier chapter. The courteous old gentleman permitted himself a glance of surprise. "What name shall I say?" 鈥淥h, my boy, my boy,鈥?she said as soon as she could recover her voice. 鈥淗ave you never really been near us for all these years? Ah, you do not know how we have loved you and mourned over you, papa just as much as I have. You know he shows his feelings less, but I can never tell you how very, very deeply he has felt for you. Sometimes at night I have thought I have heard footsteps in the garden, and have got quietly out of bed lest I should wake him, and gone to the window to look out, but there has been only dark or the greyness of the morning, and I have gone crying back to bed again. Still I think you have been near us though you were too proud to let us know 鈥?and now at last I have you in my arms once more, my dearest, dearest boy.鈥? "I suppose so," she replied, with a little nervous smile. "Oh, if you really want me to do so, I suppose I can write them out again, of course鈥攚rite them the best I can recollect."