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I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. I do not know. 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. "An hour hence, I shall return with the priest," replied Jonathan, striding towards the door. ” Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Nobody toys with me. “I’ve been,” she said, “forbidden to come. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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