But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it. . ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. ‘Not in the open street. They are all at prayer at this hour. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward.
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