Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. ‘She may well try to go back. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy.
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