. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. This way, Sir Rowland. It’s time she knew. If Emile can see him, then so also can I. Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy.
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