" "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. Ran in the family. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection.
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