He did not explain what had happened to her. She felt that she was not alone. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. She shook her head. ’ ‘Miss Melusine Charvill,’ he repeated, ‘is a convent-bred genteel girl, who is in all probability the granddaughter of General Lord Charvill. .
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