"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. My only love is for my poor lost son. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you.
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