Chapter 36: Knaves Are Trumps

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​⁠Vaura spent the night of the fifth in dreamy wakefulness; Lionel's looks, caresses, and loving words seeming hers still; and to-morrow eve; the glad joy of his presence would be again felt; and her sympathy and love for him were so tender and heartfelt, that she lost herself in an intoxicating sense of languor, sweet beyond expression, and which she could scarcely rouse herself from, when her maid