" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. “You no longer belong to Gianfrancesco. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. ” “How? Show me. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. It will cost them something to repair their stronghold, and take them more time to build it up again than I have taken to pull it down. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “My dear Annabel,” she said, “this is delightful, but I thought that it was forbidden. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft.
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