Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. “I am giving my understudy a chance. Well, one must hope, that was all. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. I will never consent till I see him. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together.
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