"Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. “I didn’t blow up the house. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. He raised her to a sitting position. Wild," he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that.
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