"I carried them off on the fatal night when we got into Wild's house, and you were struck down," replied Blueskin. . . ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. uh. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. ” “Remember that you are young still, and fond of admiration,” Anna said.
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