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Also at intervals during the day, when the breeze sighed through his woods, or the sweetbrier's fragrance stole on his senses more heavily than usual. Once, when a gipsy-girl blessed his handsome face, adding, in the fervour of her gratitude, a thousand good wishes for "the lass he loved, as must love him dear, sure-lie!" but for very shame he could have cried like a child.
Why, don't look like that, my lad. Your uncle don't think you took the money?" Don nodded. "But your mother don't, sir?" "Yes, Jem, she believes me guilty too." "I never did!" cried Jem, excitedly. "But sure-lie Miss Kitty don't?" "Yes, Jem, they all think I'm a thief. Everybody does," cried Don, passionately. "No, everybody don't," said Jem, fiercely; "so don't talk like that, Mas' Don.
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