That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. He had heard everything. “No.
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