"We shall write often to one another, and I will promise--for I see it will set your mind at ease--to tell you every worry I have. Papa is"--she started a little, a hardly visible start--but Frederick felt the sudden motion of the hand he held, and turned his full face to the road, along which a horseman was slowly riding, just passing the very stile where they stood. Margaret bowed; her bow was stiffly returned.

'We shall write often to one another, and I will promise to tell you every worry I have. Papa is' - she started a little, and Frederick turned to look at the road, along which a horseman was slowly riding, just passing the stile where they stood. Margaret bowed; her bow was stiffly returned.
