It was her past now, not Annabel’s. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. His perseverance was amply rewarded. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle.
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