Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Hearing the spring touched, he dashed through on the instant, and struck down the person who presented himself, with his bludgeon. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. "Ruth?" he called. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily.
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