" "Alas! that one so highly born should submit to such a degradation?" groaned the knight. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. \"So did I. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. "And now, Mrs. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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