But I don’t suppose you can understand. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. There is a small yewtree west of the church. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford. "Your father said so before you," replied Jonathan, malignantly; "and yet it has tarried thus long. . . ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects except that it was destitute even of a barrack-bedstead, the Red Room was reserved for state-prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the jail, as has before been mentioned, was crowded by the Preston rebels. Worse than any man.
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