"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. " Spurlock laughed. " "I'm afraid I don't understand. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. " "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. She felt as if she had struck them unawares.
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