“I do want you. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. " "Not quite, I hope," rejoined Sheppard. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. Except for a few early ebullitions of passion, natural to a warm and romantic disposition, and leaving no harmful after-effects—ebullitions that by the standards of the higher truth I feel no one can justly cast a stone at, and of which I for one am by no means ashamed—I come to you a pure and unencumbered man.
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