She ignored his question. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. I arranged that he should. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. S. " "And what is that?" "I have relatives not far from Hartford.
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