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Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot.
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