Manning, and that her aunt focussed a brightly tactful disregard upon this throughout the meal. "Rachel," said Mr. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint.
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