With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. “It was the night you left Paris. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier—Mr. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. But at least it gave her more time. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed.
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