Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Mrs. " "Only two minutes more, Sir," intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle,—"only two minutes, and we've done. I’m so glad you’re not angry.
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