‘Very well, arrest me. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. Sheppard; "never! never!" "Halloa! what's this?" demanded Blueskin, springing to his feet. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’ said the lady crossly. .
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