’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. You are yet a child; and though you have strayed from the right path, a stronger hand than your own has led you thence. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. ’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly.
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