Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. " "We won't trust you, my youngster," answered the janizary. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life.
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