’ A little sigh escaped her. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name. ” Michelle nodded in solemn agreement. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. "I lost a very valuable one some time ago.
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