and trustful than to suspicious and timid emotions that when Madame
Dalibard, suddenly looking up and shaking her head gently, said, "You see
but a sad wreck, young kinsman," all those instincts, which Nature itself
seemed to dictate for self-preservation, vanished into heavenly
tenderness and pity.

"Ah!" he said, rising, and pressing one of those deadly hands in both his
own, while tears rose to his eyes,--"Ah! since you call me kinsman, I
have all a kinsman's privileges. You must have the best advice, the most
skilful surgeons. Oh, you will recover; you must not despond."

Lucretia's lips moved uneasily. This kindness took her by surprise. She
turned desperately away from the human gleam that shot across the
sevenfold gloom of her soul. "Do not think of me," she said, with a
forced smile; "it is my peculiarity not to like allusion to myself,
though this time I provoked it. Speak to me of the old cedar-trees at
Laughton,--do they stand still? You are the master of Laughton now! It
is a noble heritage!"

Then St. John, thinking to please her, talked of the old manor-house,
described the improvements made by his father, spoke gayly of those which
he himself contemplated; and as he ran on, Lucretia's brow, a moment
ruffled, grew smooth and smoother, and the gloom settled back upon her
soul.

All at once she interrupted him. "How did you discover me? Was it
through Mr. Varney? I bade him not mention me: yet how else could you
learn?" As she spoke, there was an anxious trouble in her tone, which
increased while she observed that St. John looked confused.