" "Poor Jack!" exclaimed Thames. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. Wood in a sharp tone. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. How she needed him! Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her guard. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. ” “I’m not. Now there is none. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. Kneebone will excuse you.
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