At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. “Look at me. M. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. ” Anna looked up with a doubtful smile of non-recognition. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon.
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