" "A fugitive. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. " "How have you procured these things?" asked Thames, in the utmost astonishment. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.
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