But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. “There is my aunt,” she said. " "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. You will be under the eye of the best friend I have; and if you do not treat that child for what she is —an innocent angel—I promise to hunt you across the wide world and kill you with bare hands. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica.
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