This inexperienced sweet creature owns the castle and estate which bears your name, even to the furniture and pictures.

She is the possessor of at least forty thousand a year--how much more I cannot say--while, buried here in Outer Wessex, she lives at the rate of twelve hundred in her simplicity.' 'It is very good of you to set this before me.

But I prefer to go on as I am going.' 'Well, I won't bore you any more with her to-day.

A monk in regimentals!--'tis strange.' Dare arose and was about to open the door, when, looking through the window, Captain De Stancy said, 'Stop.' He had perceived his father, Sir William De Stancy, walking among the tombstones without.
'Yes, indeed,' said Dare, turning the key in the door.

'It would look strange if he were to find us here.' As the old man seemed indisposed to leave the churchyard just yet they sat down again.
'What a capital card-table this green cloth would make,' said Dare, as they waited.