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MY LOVE, SHE'S BUT A LASSIE.

VOL. I.

BY

THE AUTHOR OF

QUEENIE.”

“Like to the grass that's newly sprung,

Or like a tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's hero to-day,
Or like the pearlèd dew of May:

E'en such is man; who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life, and death-
The grass withers, the tale is ended;
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended."

SIMON WASTELL.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1875.

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LONDON: PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL,

BLENHEIM HOUSE.

MY LOVE, SHE'S BUT A LASSIE.

CHAPTER I.

“My friend, I have seen a white crane bigger !
She was the smallest lady alive,
Made in a piece of nature’s madness,
Too small, almost, for the life and gladness
That over-filled her."

R. BROWNING.

ONE

NE August afternoon, precisely at the

time when the 4.15 train was bound to leave the busy, over-crowded Middleland Junction, Walter Huntley, Captain in one of Her Majesty's cavalry regiments, quietly stepped into an empty carriage. Having already seen a portmanteau and tin caseboth of which bore marks of many a

VOL. I.

B

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