"Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. “Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. He looked at her guiltily. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring.
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