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Sheppard,—"pray let me go. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. “Twenty-two. F. "I believe he is conscious," she answered. 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. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. After all, old P.
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