Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. She was practically destitute of jewellery. ‘Here we go again. " "Would he had done so!" cried Jack. She still kicked herself for it. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. "But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. It would be too mortifying. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. “Stop,” he said.
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