Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life.
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