“No, I am alone,” she answered. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. ' He muttered it continually. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. His heart beat wildly and he was afraid lest the strain be too much; but the girl shook her head and smiled and pointed to the top of the mountain. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. He looked about for his hat, and put it on. CHAPTER XV. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a super.
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