Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. Love and companionship. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. "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. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. "No!" she cried.
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