‘What’s to do?’ ‘Valade is here. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. ” “No,” she cried, “I will not. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release.
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