” “I will think of it,” she repeated. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. He told some of the particulars. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell.
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