"Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. Still, one never could tell. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. She recognized the face but could not quite place it. 1715. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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