Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four. He then looked around him with some curiosity; and, as the thief-taker was occupied in giving directions to his attendant in an undertone, ample leisure was allowed him for investigation. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. She did not try to approach him. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends.
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