And I want you for myself—for my wife. . Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. His name was Peter. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. Softly she rose to her feet. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use.
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