Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. Jack attacked Jonathan with such fury, that he drove him into a shrubbery, and might perhaps have come off the victor, if his foot had not slipped as he made a desperate lunge. “You do not know what you say. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating.
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