Another long interval elapsed. "Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to Saint Thomas; beneath which there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "was sepultured Peter the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London:" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumbledown condition) which had once vied with a palace,—we mean Nonesuch House. "I'm afraid, Jack, you'll come to the gallows," observed the smith; "buth if you do, I'll go to Tyburn to see you. He paced faster, stomping around. ’ But the nun’s eyes had caught Gerald behind and she took instant umbrage. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly.
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