Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. “I may as well come up by this train. Do not oppose it, and I will serve you. I am shockingly poor. I have always hated it. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. That terrible Young Person! she’s vanished. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.
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