"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter. Mrs. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused. ” He admonished.
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