He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “To my chagrin, I have. ” “But you thought you could forget him. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. ” Her father interrupted. ‘Tell me, my boy. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. "Have you broken out of the cage, Jack?" "Something like it," replied the lad carelessly. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side.
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