The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. "Before either of you go, you will ask my permission," said Jonathan, coolly. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command.
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