Oh, my tongue! my tongue! Why had I not controlled my miserable, mischievous woman's tongue! "I didn't mean to alarm you, Eustace," I said.

"I spoke at random.

Pray forgive me." He waved his hand impatiently, as if my penitent words were tangible things--ruffling, worrying things, like flies in summer--which he was putting away from him.
"What else have you discovered ?" he asked, in low, stern tones.
"Nothing, Eustace." "Nothing ?" He paused as he repeated the word, and passed his hand over his forehead in a weary way.

"Nothing, of course," he resumed, speaking to himself, "or she would not be here." He paused once more, and looked at me searchingly.

"Don't say again what you said just now," he went on.
"For your own sake, Valeria, as well as for mine." He dropped into the nearest chair, and said no more.
I certainly heard the warning; but the only words which really produced an impression on my mind were the words preceding it, which he had spoken to himself.