"But, though the storm has spared him, I will not. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice.
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