--Your loving friend,
'WINIFRED GWYNNE.'
Freda sealed and directed her letter, and then went to the open window,
and stood there for some time. A slight shower of rain was falling and
a few light clouds were struggling with the afternoon sunbeams. Strong
shadows fell from the trees in the Park, equally strong lights were on
the distant hills. The river looked hot and hazy, and the cattle had
congregated under the arch of the bridge--the only cool spot--as if for
shelter from the sun. A shrill, blithe, distant whistle sounded, and the
bells of Llanfawr church pealed in the far-away town, just sending their
faint echoes across the river.
'What are those bells ringing for?' said Freda, as she wiped away some
large tears that were gathering in her eyes. 'They ring for everything;
soon it will be for these odious marriages. Why was I ever born? Why,
above all, was I born in such a place as this? And to leave it! Yes,
Frisk' (to her terrier, that was barking and jumping outside the
window), 'you and I must go away. No more quarrels with Jerry; no more
fights with Gelert?; no more hunts in the brook. Will you come with me
to smoky London? Yes, and hate it as much as I shall. Sleep away your
life by a city fire, and grow fat and old, instead of racing after me
and Prince.
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