A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. "She has fallen into the villain's hands. ” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. Mr. Both started. " "An hour," said Jonathan, looking at his watch,—"remember!" "If you send for me to the Cross Shovels in the Mint, where I'm going with Blueskin, I will surrender myself without resistance," returned Jack. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. 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. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. " "A clever device," replied Jonathan; "but it won't serve your turn.
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