Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. He filled her glass with champagne. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. The reward is mine. "Is it poison?" she asked. "Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish.
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