You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. I have since received a most extraordinary letter from her. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. Young people ignore them until they find themselves up against them. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. “I cannot keep silence any longer. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch.
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