" Sir Rowland bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. " "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, glancing significantly at Charcam, who was a confidant in his Jacobite schemes; "is it the messenger from Orchard-Windham, from Sir William?" "No, Sir Rowland. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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