The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. " "Be it so!" rejoined Sir Rowland, with concentrated fury; "but before we do part, I am resolved to know the name of your pretended husband!" "Torture shall not wrest it from me," answered his sister, firmly. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. “I’ve been following you for many years. Now what I want you to feel is this. His heart beat wildly and he was afraid lest the strain be too much; but the girl shook her head and smiled and pointed to the top of the mountain. He’ll do. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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