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. I give myself to you. But Jack and his companion were already gone. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. “It’s my fault. We are nuns.
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