Very soon she would be able to forget it. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild.
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