On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. " The caution was scarcely uttered, when the door opened, and Jack Sheppard presented himself. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. .
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