" "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. ‘In this case, I will not kill him at all, even that he should have remained to wait for my letter. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. Instead of which they walked sharply.
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