“You seem to forget that my sister is—married. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. I never yet heard of a Christians as was named after the Shannon or the Liffy; and the Thames is no better than a dhurty puddle, compared wi' them two noble strames. ” She looked at him for a moment with fire in her eyes. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked.
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