At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. "Oh! you did, did you?" said the janizary. I always fall on my feet, you know. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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