To one absurd thing, because it was living, Una could not shut her heart—to the senile canary.
Yesterday it was natural and pleasant to spend the day with Maurice and Una.
Una jerked her head at some stately pheasants going down to the brook for a drink.
Una, puzzled, but obedient to a quick glance from her aunt, wrote the note.
A day or two since, Una found a few purple violets, and yesterday a dandelion in bloom.
Una swam forward, and, reckless with fright now, shouted again.
With what powerful truths does Una meet the arguments of Despair?
If you persist in being disobliging, Maurice, you and Una can go by yourselves.
I am afraid it puts thee to unspeakable pain and trouble, and I feel as if I ought to be with thee; especially as Una is not well.
In an hour, or less than an hour, he must say farewell to Una.