THAT scene in Jopling’s garden was striking and impressive; a little human drama full of the elements of comedy and tragedy; while the weird sisters who spin the threads of human destinies were busy with the future of these people.
“Bob,” the mysterious stranger, who seemed unconcerned and perfectly self-possessed, advanced to Martha, and with outstretched hand said smilingly, and with hearty gusto—
“My dear young lady, permit me to congratulate you. The Hon. Randolph Pym must feel a proud man at this moment, and well indeed he may as the happy possessor of such a prize. Love is a great leveller; it recognizes no distinction in social position, but—”
Pym seemed to suddenly recover himself at these words, and with declamatory fierceness exclaimed—
“This is tomfoolery. I don’t know who y
