And so, here we are, right back from where we started. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. Mr. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct. Something drew you. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. My own impression is that he already knows. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him.
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