"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “Oh, Michelle, I’m such a miserable fool. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. That he had resolved upon its execution, whatever it might be, was evident from his saying aloud,— "I will do it. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. "This young fool is come to restore the article—whatever it may be—which Lady Trafford was anxious to conceal, and which his companion purloined. Not fit to be dust on your boots. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia.
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