’ ‘Your plan, then. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. I took him out of the hands of death. “I can’t believe it. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Sheppard had been interred. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. Sheppard.
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