“It was,” she admitted. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. And you are something of a heroine, too. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock.
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