" "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. " Taking the keys, he led the way, followed by Jonathan, who chuckled internally at the shock that awaited the poor fellow. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. "I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows. The whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance.
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