"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. The subject matter was generally worthless, but the handling was well done. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. This did not affect Spurlock. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.
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