On second thoughts, however, I determined to feign sleep, and watch all that passed.
Resistance on my part would have been utterly useless, and I was anxious to find out if possible what connexion existed between my uncle, George Harrison, and this strange woman.
All this darted through my mind on the instant; the rays of the candle flashed upon the opposite wall; and my uncle, followed by his odious-looking companion, entered the room.
My intention of watching all their movements was completely frustrated by Mr.Moncton, who, advancing with cautious steps to my bed-side, held up the light in such a manner as not only to reveal my face, but the attitude in which I lay.
"Is he sleeping ?" he whispered to his companion.
"He breathes like one in a profound slumber," was the reply.

"'Tis a fine lad.

How much he resembles Sir Alexander." "His father, rather," sneered Moncton.

"He's a second edition of Ned; but has got more brains.

Thanks to his grandfather, Geoffrey, and his own mother, who was a beautiful, talented creature.