The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. F. God help me. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him. ’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone.
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