Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. I wanted to speak to you first. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. He was daring enough to have seized and carried him off before the whole congregation, but he preferred waiting.
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