” Anna was not late, but her heart sank within her when she entered the drawingroom. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. She started forward. ” There was a moment’s silence. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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