" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. I have a good memory, you perceive, Sir Rowland. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. As they 56 approached the manor, she was permitted to peep her head outside the chariot's front window. She did not realize that she was offering criticisms. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously.
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