The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. It'll be turning over to-morrow. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. Very romantic and all that. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. But,” and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, “this is not the end!” Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility.
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