‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain.
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