"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. White. The hangman is always an object of peculiar detestation to the mob, a tremendous hooting hailed his appearance, and both staves and swords were required to preserve order. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. “Still, since it is better to tell you, Sir John is very much in earnest, but his respectability is something altogether too overpowering. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. But when he looked again, there she was! "I don't understand," he said, finally. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. I can never be grateful enough. CHAPTER XII.
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