He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. Hear me, adorable girl! You know not the extent of my devotion. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. Spurling? Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it 'ud be fifty guineas out of my way. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter.
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