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I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. But the crowning glory of Jonathan, that which raised him above all his predecessors in iniquity, and clothed this name with undying notoriety—was to come.
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