"Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Them young prigs is all alike.
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