“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. He recoiled from the sting. You will be opposite the big entrance in Old Palace Yard. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. Then he turned to Anna. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. .
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