CHAPTER III. "Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered.
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