"Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. “They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively rude to me because I could not. Then I tucked it nice and snug under the saddle-bag. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. “It is a hateful story. He felt the first sting of the whip.
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