"As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. Recollect that.
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