"Here we part,—perhaps for ever. Nigel, you have not forgotten!” “No,” he said, with a little bitter smile. “You see the pointer?” he asked. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. “He wants to settle something on you, I believe. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have.
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