“What is the good of pretending?” she said. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. I had no curiosity of that kind. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. “Just come to that seat now you are here, Miss Stanley, and look down the other path; there’s a vista of just the common sort. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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