Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. “You are late,” she murmured. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions.
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