For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. The second look told me I was wrong. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. He drew a little sigh of relief. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck.
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