" "This comes of fine feelings!" muttered Jonathan, contemptuously. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. "Do you dare to insinuate that Mrs.
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