"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Hence!" "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice, the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct, "listen to me. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. "She was mine before you ever saw her. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. I shall want you. I’m okay.
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