But they been good to me, they have, sir. . The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. Sir John stood upon the threshold. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years.
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