"It is," replied Sheppard. “No. ” “And you knew, of course, that we were old friends?” “Indeed!” “Lady Ferringhall, I love your sister. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. . ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. She was weeping now. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. “In five minutes I shall be ready. But she did not in the least want to do that.
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