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. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. ” “Oh. Hence!" "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice, the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct, "listen to me. Another labyrinth in hell!" A smile broke over the trader's face.
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