“But Sir John?” he exclaimed. Now do you see his motive?" "I see nothing but your danger," replied his mother, tenderly. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack.
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