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Before she passed out she turned and faced Sir John. Then she took her sister’s hand. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. Whatever those rights may be, whoever I am, my heart is yours. You must tell me what it all means. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion.
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