How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. She was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler and a little thinner. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang. I'll be feeling fine in no time. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth.
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