‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr.
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