CHAPTER XII.
Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, in ripen'd time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance.
SHAKESPEARE Annette came almost breathless to Emily's apartment in the morning.

'O ma'amselle!' said she, in broken sentences, 'what news I have to tell! I have found out who the prisoner is--but he was no prisoner, neither;--he that was shut up in the chamber I told you of.

I must think him a ghost, forsooth!' 'Who was the prisoner ?' enquired Emily, while her thoughts glanced back to the circumstance of the preceding night.
'You mistake, ma'am,' said Annette; 'he was not a prisoner, after all.' 'Who is the person, then ?' 'Holy Saints!' rejoined Annette; 'How I was surprised! I met him just now, on the rampart below, there.

I never was so surprised in my life! Ah! ma'amselle! this is a strange place! I should never have done wondering, if I was to live here an hundred years.

But, as I was saying, I met him just now on the rampart, and I was thinking of nobody less than of him.' 'This trifling is insupportable,' said Emily; 'prythee, Annette, do not torture my patience any longer.' 'Nay, ma'amselle, guess--guess who it was; it was somebody you know very well.' 'I cannot guess,' said Emily impatiently.
'Nay, ma'amselle, I'll tell you something to guess by--A tall Signor, with a longish face, who walks so stately, and used to wear such a high feather in his hat; and used often to look down upon the ground, when people spoke to him; and to look at people from under his eyebrows, as it were, all so dark and frowning.