"Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. "If I am the devil," observed Wild, "as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you'll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody. Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it. She was as lovely in the spirit as in the flesh. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. “You must not think of me as one. ‘She may well try to go back.
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