‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. ‘Ask him. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. " "By Heaven!" cried Kneebone, with increasing fervour, "it is true—as true as my affection for you. 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. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure.
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