The chapel was crowded to excess. . “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat.
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