” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. ’ It was immediately evident that Lucilla Froxfield was not as silly as Melusine had thought, for the face of her captain immediately changed and he took her hands, a look on his face that caused Melusine an instant pang. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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