He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. Wood could stand it no longer. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later.
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