Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. ” “I say, you know, you have some pluck.
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