At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. “I love your sister. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. " "That fiend is ever in my path," exclaimed Mrs.
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