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"I have killed her," cried Jack. Wood, softening her asperity. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief.
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