" "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. ’ She was about to develop this theme, when Jack’s gaze became fixed, and his expression changed. You must keep out of the way till it's blown over. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. It was years before your time. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. "Mother, I come to you.
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