From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. I know my son's voice too well. Fortescue tried to act embarrassment in order to conceal its reality, and Ann Veronica went on to ask a string of questions about acting, and whether her sister would act, and was she beautiful enough for it, and who would make her dresses, and so on.
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