" "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. "Dying, Sir Rowland. Wood will protect you," urged Mrs. ’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. But her husband, whose deportment to her was considerably changed since the fatal knot had been tied, paid no attention whatever to her grief. "Set it down, I tell you," thundered Blueskin, "or I shall do it a mischief. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Get it off your soul.
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