"I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Mr. " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. "I do," replied Sheppard. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so.
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