Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Then Sheila noticed the stains. Mr. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. He was speedily disarmed; and the rope and gag being found upon him, were exultingly turned against him by his conqueror, who, after pinioning his arms tightly behind his back, forced open his mouth with the iron, and effectually prevented the utterance of any further outcries. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary.
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