" "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. "I'll be back in a minute. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. He had said so. These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. “I feel shabby and disgraced. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. I take more than their blood, John. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him.
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