‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. I must have been very wound up. " "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward. "No such thing," rejoined the jailer; "he's coming on business. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas.
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