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"Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ‘No, Melusine. “I think,” he said, “that I am right. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer. " "You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger. ToC As soon as he was liberated by his persecutors, Mr.
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