’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. He caught the smirk. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. “Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point.
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