“Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. “And now, look at us! See what we have become. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host.
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