"Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. He shook his head. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. There was a young lad ahead of her. A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. ” She interrupted as Ann Veronica was about to speak again, with a bright contagious hopefulness. Her thoughts took words for themselves.
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