She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. The walls were of immense thickness; the small windows double-grated and unglazed; the fire-place was without a grate; and a barrack-bed, divided into two compartments, occupied one corner. This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features—especially the nose and chin,—and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. “Tell her,” said Mr. Don’t be frightened, dear. It was a haunted place.
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