” She breathed an inner sigh of relief. No matter. Just then—I was nervous. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. ‘Certainly, if I was a nun, I know of many good names. Mesdames Thierry and Poussaint appeared delighted to meet Gerald, and he was obliged to do the pretty to their daughters too. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. There is nobody, then?" "Oh, there is an aunt.
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