She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. I can't bear it. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Besides—there is Sir John.
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