But with the skill of a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. ” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker.
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