What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. A slight cough uttered by Jonathan at the moment awakened the echoes of the place, and was returned in hollow reverberations. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again.
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