. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. He had scarcely entered the arch, when the indraught was so violent, and the noise of the wind so dreadful and astounding, that he almost determined to relinquish the undertaking. “Well?” he asked her tersely. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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