He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. She said as much to him. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination.
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