The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured. ‘Let’s check the rest of it and then I suppose we will have to break in. 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. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it.
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