‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. But she veiled her feelings. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. ‘And take you this sword. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. At length, I shall ascertain my name.
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