On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. Descending the hollow, or rather excavation,—for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated,—he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edgeworth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return,—to all which Black Mary readily agreed,—he departed with a heart lightened of half its load. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. . You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. “I will not ask you to explain further. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us.
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