"O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. "Good-bye, Mac. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. Take it, and take the estates, in Captain Sheppard's name. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer.
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