. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. I would not have him know—now—for the world. I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight.
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