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Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland by Abigail Stanley Hanna
page 81 of 371 (21%)
Charles, in Portland, and rode with him a short distance. He sent Dora
a present by him, but told him nothing of the transaction. She came to
me in hopes of hearing something more definite from him."

"How does the poor girl bear it?"

"She is very unhappy, and says she is not ashamed to have people know
she had been deceived; but many tell her they wouldn't mind anything
about it."

"They may say so," said Annie, raising her dark eyes to Edith, while a
deeper flush suffused her cheek; "but, Edith, I tell you, it will wear
and wear upon the secret springs of life, till it bears its victim to
the grave."

Edith gazed upon her with such an anxious, pitying expression, that
she felt she had betrayed her own secret, and bending her head to hide
her blushes, she picked up the mellow, golden colored fruit that lay
around her, and commenced rolling them down into the stream that
flowed at their feet. At that moment poor crazy Betsey Thornton came
bounding over the stone wall that separated that from an adjoining
enclosure, and gathering her blanket about her, stood curtesying and
laughing before them, repeating as she did so,

"Poor little Hannah Pease, poor little Hannah Pease--old Ben Thornton,
old Ben Thornton."

"Take some apples, Mrs. Thornton," said Edith, as she regarded her
with a sad expression of countenance.

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