There she was alive, and here she is dead; so I've lost all faith in La Masque for ever." Ormiston looked doubtful.
"Are you quite sure it is the same, Kingsley ?" "Quite sure ?" said Sir Norman, indignantly.

"Of course I am! Do you think I could be mistaken is such a case?
I tell you I would know that face at Kamschatka or, the North Pole; for I don't believe there ever was such another created." "So be it, then! Your object, of course, in following that cart is, to take a last look at her ?" "Precisely so.

Don't talk; I feel in no mood for it just at present." Ormiston smiled to himself, and did not talk, accordingly; and in silence the two friends followed the gloomy dead-cart.

A faint young moon, pale and sickly, was struggling dimly through drifts of dark clouds, and lighted the lonesome, dreary streets with a wan, watery glimmer.

For weeks, the weather had been brilliantly fine--the days all sunshine, the nights all moonlight; but now Ormiston, looking up at the troubled face of the sky, concluded mentally that the Lord Mayor had selected an unpropitious night for the grand illumination.