I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. "Then, the story of his death was false. . I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. ‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. The rear of the party was brought up by a large, powerfully-built man, with a bluff, honest, but rugged countenance, slashed with many a cut and scar, and stamped with that surly, sturdy, bull-dog-like look, which an Englishman always delights to contemplate, because he conceives it to be characteristic of his countrymen.
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