" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. " The patient was asleep. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Manning. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. "Not entirely," replied Jonathan, calmly; "though I shouldn't be ashamed of it if it were. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. I have been stupid and foolish.
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