"You may yell here until your throat splits, for all the good it will do you.

Lanisterre, show us a light; the path to the door is uncertain, and the floor of the mill is unsafe.
This way, if you please, Miss Lorne.

Let me have the boy--I'll look after him!" "No, no!--not yet! Please, not yet!" said Ailsa, with a little catch in her voice as she plucked his little lordship to her and smothered his frightened cries against her breast.

"Let me have him whilst I may--let me hold him to--the last, Monsieur Merode.

His mother trusts me.