She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. That blow made me a thief. "'Tis a cruel thing you've done, lad. The young lady saw the change, and almost snorted.
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