His smile faded. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Manning appeared just at the end of the afternoon’s work, and the biologist was going through some perplexities the Scotchman had created by a metaphysical treatment of the skulls of Hyrax and a young African elephant. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. '" "What is that?" she asked. I want to give myself to you. It was most amusing. “You’re still,” he said, “in the educational years.
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