And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. "No matter," replied Sheppard. . ” “Oh!” he said, in a colorless tone, and with his eyes on her face. The shock and distress were genuine. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily.
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