"Hush! I wish he slept with his fathers. But even if he should awake, how could he guess, that our visit to his chamber could in any way concern him?"
"He has a shrewd face, an intelligent eye—an eye to detect treachery, and defy danger."
"On the contrary, a babe might deceive him."
"He has been educated in too hard a school to revel in such ignorance, Moncton."
"Hold your tongue, Dinah, and give me the light. Remember how you were deceived in his cousin Philip."
Mr. Moncton's hand was on the lock of the door: an almost irresistible impulse urged me to spring from the bed and draw the bolt. On second thoughts, however, I determined to feign sleep, and watch all that passed.
Resistance on my part would have been utterly useless, and I was anxious to find out if possible what connexion existed between my uncle, George Harrison, and this strange woman.
All this darted through my mind on the instant; the rays of the candle flashed upon the opposite wall; and my uncle, followed by his odious-looking companion, entered the room.
My intention of watching all their movements was completely frustrated by Mr. Moncton, who, advancing with cautious steps to my bed-side, held up the light in such a manner as not only to reveal my face, but the attitude in which I lay.
"Is he sleeping?" he whispered to his companion.