“I didn’t know Mr. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. I'll take two apprentices, and depict their career. He hesitated. She despises me, I suppose. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan.
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