Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. "The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. Indeed, he told me nothing at all.
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