Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. The old aspect of the place was gone. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. Mama will be expecting me. “Yes.
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