"I know it struck ten as we passed St.Paul's." "This grand bonfire of our most worshipful Lord Mayor will be a sight worth seeing," remarked the earl.

"When all these piles are lighted, the city will be one sea of fire." "A slight foretaste of what most of its inhabitants will behold in another world," said the page, with a French shrug.

"I have heard Lilly's prediction that London is to be purified by fire, like a second Sodom; perhaps it is to be verified to-night." "Not unlikely; the dome of St.Paul's would be an excellent place to view the conflagration." "The river will do almost as well, my lord." "We will have a chance of knowing that presently," said the earl, as he and his page descended to the river, where the little gilded barge lay moored, and the boatman waiting.
As they passed from sight Ormiston came forth, and watched thoughtfully after them.

The face and figure were that of the lady, but the voice was different; both were clear and musical enough, but she spoke English with the purest accent, while his was the voice of a foreigner.

It most have been one of those strange, unaccountable likenesses we sometimes see among perfect strangers, but the resemblance in this ease was something wonderful.