CHAPTER XX. . The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. It is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how you received your wound. “I do mean that,” she declared. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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