His tone was rough, almost threatening. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. " "Oh. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath.
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