"Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. 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. In fact, one of them was downright sceptical. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding.
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