“Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. “You think that this is all. But this accusation, for want of sufficient evidence, met with the same fate as the first, and Jonathan came off victorious. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. Amid this portentous hush, the report of a pistol reached the carpenter's ears; and, raising his head at the sound, he beheld a sight which filled him with fresh apprehensions. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. It was a beautiful place that she had found, a round cave by a small stream. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion.
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