Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. Here were the passionate lovers! What their past had been he neither cared nor craved to know. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. Good night. Giles's round-house, and if, through the agency of that treacherous scoundrel, Terry O'Flaherty, whom I've put in my Black List, old Wood should have found his way there, and have been detained by Sharpies as I directed, you may release him. CHAPTER XXIV.
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