CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. But to plunge blindly into the unknown!" "I had to! I had to!" She had told him only the first part of her story. They concern us all. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. There was no light in the room; but, notwithstanding this, the young man did not fail to detect the buxom figure of Mrs. Sections and pages had been pasted together, and all through both Testaments a word had been blotted out.
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