There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect.
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