” “And I,” Brendon said, humbly, “although I am afraid there is no chance for me, my errand was the same. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. On the contrary, he was a universal favourite, and numbered amongst his intimate acquaintances the choicest spirits of the time,—Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, and "all the better brothers. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. ” Annabel laughed softly. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. CHAPTER IV.
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