"Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. “I have given it up,” she answered. Marry me. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. "I would not venture to renew my suit while Thames lived, because I well knew your affections were fixed upon him. She left for good after he fell asleep. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth.
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