" "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. I hated the stuff. " "Force shall not make me yours till Jack is free," replied the widow, resolutely. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him.
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