His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. "Release him first—and I will disclose it!" cried Lady Trafford; "on my soul, I will!" "Speak then!" returned Rowland. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. It would hurt no one. . She took to listening through closed doors.
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