"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. " "A promise to my mother?" said Winifred, unsuspiciously. “Yes. He did his best not to grin. Do you see the time?” “I may come and see you?” Ennison asked, as his hand touched hers.
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