“Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. "I don't know what his idea was. ” She acted calm, but could not help being offended. It was better even than the hymn-singing. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Drawing his hanger he rode amongst the crowd, trampled upon those most in advance, and made an attempt to seize their leader, in whom he recognised Blueskin. This obstacle being removed, in his eagerness to proceed, he had forgotten to take his little charge with him.
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