Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. It was not only that her father had said all sorts of inconsistent and unreasonable things, but that by some incomprehensible infection she herself had replied in the same vein. His destination was the New Mint. Your father is very angry, and will not have her name mentioned in his hearing. You intrigue me. Come with me to the Condemned Hold directly, and, if I find my fears confirmed, I'll—" He was here interrupted by the sudden entrance of the black, who rushed precipitately into the room, letting fall the heavy bunch of keys in his fright. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. “Thank God,” he exclaimed.
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