THAT OLD TRAMPLARA.
As they entered the garden, Mirelle was about to take Cicely's arm, and walk round it with her, looking at the flowers, when John Herring stayed her—
'Excuse me, Countess, I must trouble you one moment. I think it time that we should make an attempt to find out your father's relatives or connections in England.'
'I do not suppose that he had any.'
'Why not?'
'He did not speak to me of any. Besides, these people do not hang together like persons who have pedigrees.'
'But something must be done. Whither are you to go? What is to become of you?'
'Comme le bon Dieu veut!'
'You cannot remain here till some one turns up to claim you.'
'Why not?'