” “Auntie?” asked Constance, who was conversant with Ann Veronica’s affairs. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full.
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