Her confession was still unmade. "There is another mystery I would have solved," said Trenchard, addressing Wild; "you have told me much, but not enough. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. —What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. He gets his brains from Carolyn. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. But Gerald kept to a casual note. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low.
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