We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. " "Keep in your own room, at all events," rejoined Kneebone. ’ He bowed. To the point however. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace.
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