It was her past now, not Annabel’s. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. ” He said. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. She was caught by some of the bystanders, who offered by her every assistance in their power. .
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