’ Gerald seized on this. “I’m sorry. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune.
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