Sir John stood upon the threshold. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. ‘I was not born to this. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside.
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