He had not remembered her as looking so small. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. He was aware of trying to scream because he was paralyzed and his legs would not move.
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