The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. S. “I see the difficulty. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. That I should be challenged by you of all people.
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