“MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. " "Be still!" returned Jonathan, in the same under tone, and with great selfpossession: "I can yet save you. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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