“It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. The sight of the thief-taker increased the fury of the mob to a fearful degree. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. "I was," answered Sheppard.
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