The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. He became a little less en garde. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. But did any woman get anything better from a man? Perhaps every woman conceals herself from a man perforce!. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. "Good night, Master. Wood.
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