‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. " McClintock whistled. It was a haunted place. "It is Jonathan. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. One OUGHT to want to please her. "Relating to the father of the boy—Thames Darrell," supplied Jonathan. . Even there a woman never gets a fair chance.
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