Some day it might come to pass that I, girl as I was, might contribute by word or deed towards the vindication of that long-suffering, gallant, and romantic prodigal.

It was a flicker of the Joan of Arc inspiration, common, I fancy, to many girls.

I little then imagined how profoundly and strangely involved my uncle's fate would one day become with mine.
I was interrupted by Captain Oakley's voice at the window.

He was leaning on the window-sill, and looking in with a smile--the window being open, the morning sunny, and his cap lifted in his hand.
'Good-morning, Miss Ruthyn.

What a charming old place! quite the setting for a romance; such timber, and this really _beautiful_ house.