There was—a service. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. " Sheppard immediately complied with the painter's request; while Gay and Figg drew back on one side, and Hogarth on the other. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. They are not your flowers. "Before I go," continued Sir Rowland, "I must beg of you to disclose to me all you know relative to the parentage of Thames Darrell. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. Do you know what? You're some sea goddess and you're only fooling us. She’s already spoken for.
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