" "On that night, you first met me, love," said Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to take his hand, which he coldly withdrew. \" They talked until midnight most nights. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. " "Murdered!" ejaculated Winifred. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. “Of course, I remember now. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. .
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