He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. Nothing else weighs against it. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Too much, perhaps. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. Gag him," he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, "and convey him to the boat. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going.
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