What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. "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. "If things had gone smoothly," he thought, "I should have cursed the fellow's stupidity. I require stimulant. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. Here it is.
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