" "You shall—you shall," answered Jack. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. ’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. Too late now. The militia were in already. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock.
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