She felt flattered. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him.
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