" Sheppard said nothing, but a disdainful smile curled his lips. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. " "This comes of fine feelings!" muttered Jonathan, contemptuously. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst.
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