She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. One day she desisted from her search and went unexpectedly to the Tredgold College. She ignored it until it repeated itself. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed.
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