"I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. For the present the desire to fly was gone. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. ‘Ask him. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench.
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