Section 2. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. I refused to sign a petition in his behalf to the Recorder; not from any ill-will to him, but because it was prepared by a person whom I particularly dislike— Captain Darrell. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. Her shoulders began to ache.
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