The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. " "This I do know," continued Jack,—"Jonathan Wild superintends the attack. Her cargo is nearly shipped. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. Courtlaw rose to his feet. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered.
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