“An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Not us. This costume, though somewhat extravagant, displayed his slight, but perfectly-proportioned figure to the greatest advantage. ‘Something in that, missie.
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