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CHAPTER XIII. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink.
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