"Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. He had not noticed the girl particularly when she offered the sandwiches; but in this moment he found her beautiful. ” She repeated, as if she answered an objector: “A sort of blacklegging. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. I'm burning up. The thing rankled in her mind night and day.
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