No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. " "And partly what else?" "I shall never tell anybody that. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. But in a moment she believed she understood. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. “I’m sorry. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. I will endeavour.
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