The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. It was hard to resist. Not afraid of me, either. “Why, I do not know. “I saw his face in a mirror.
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