The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. “You are late,” she murmured. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter.
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