“I am sure that you are. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo. Shall we turn back?" "And disappoint Mr. “Will he die?” she asked. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course.
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