" "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. I never saw a man who wasn't. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Presently. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. To be no longer with Martha was strange. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. ‘Many things he taught me. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. I really cared for him a little, but I am absolutely determined not to marry for some time at any rate. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned.
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