She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. Catch him, she begged silently. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. I shall have to discover one suitable. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands.
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