Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. Never sent for the shirt. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. "Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. .
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