But alas for our poor little Alice ! This wind does not
suit her at all; this unceasing, this wearisome wind — this
agitating, terrible wind ! She did not fear death before, in
the calm serene weather, when it seemed that her soul might

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272 Wenderholme. part i.
rise in the blue ether, and be borne by floating angels. But
to go out into the bleak, stern tempest — to leave his encir-
cling arms, and be dashed no one knows whither along the
desolate, unfamiliar Provence, with twigs, and dead leaves,
and pebbles, and that choking cloud of sand !

" Forgive me these foolish fancies," she prayed, from the
depths of this horror. ** My soul knows her way to the haven
of thy rest^ O Lord, my Guide and my Redeemer I "



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Chap. XXXIV. Jocob Ogden free again. 273



CHAPTER XXXIV.
JACOB OGDEN FREE AGAIN.
EARLY in the month of February there came a black-
edged letter to Arkwright Lodge, with a French stamp
upon it The letter was from Philip Stanbume, and it an-
nounced Alice Stedman's death.
Two days after the arrival of that letter another letter
arrived at Milend for Jacob Ogden. It bore the Whittlecup
post-mark, and had an exact outward resemblance to several
other letters which had come from the same place, but its
contents were of a new character.
Miss Anison expressed her vegret that in consequence of
Mr. Jacob Ogden's neglect, of his readiness to postpone his
visits on the slightest pretexts, of the rarity and coldness of
his letters, she felt compelled, from a due regard to her own
happiness, to put an end to the engagement which had existed
between them.
