For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. She was weeping now. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. And with his daughter?’ ‘He wrote to Jarvis from an inn in France, saying that he had married Mademoiselle Valade, and that his baby naturally belonged with her father. . . The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. .
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