Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. " "I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland. If not, keep up your spirits. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. "But I'll yet disappoint you.
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