When were you last confessed, Sir Rowland?" he added abruptly. ” Brendon went very pale. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. “Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection.
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