Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan.
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