"Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. ” Annabel, who was looking very well, and who was most becomingly dressed, moved to a seat from which she could command a view of the road outside. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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