She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort.
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