Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them.
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