Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband. When Captain Darrell's birth is ascertained, I've no doubt he'll turn out a nobleman's son. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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