The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. “I am so sorry.
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