He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. . “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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