The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. He shall expiate his offences on the gibbet. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. . ’ ‘Alas. . " "What a strange history is mine!" said Thames. B. " "And I hope he will, if it's anything to Jonathan's disadvantage," muttered Mrs. " "It'll be over in a few minutes," rejoined Jonathan, impatiently; "in fact, it'll be over too soon for me. ‘Oh, you are making a game with me. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. It shall be the bludgeon. “Nor am I now,” he answered.
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