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277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. Wood, I forget nothing.
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