Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. It’s only as if I’d begun to know you the day before yesterday or there-abouts. His tone was kind and sympathetic. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out.
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