She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say.
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