Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. No; she'd never go back. It came with an extreme effect of re-discovery, a remarkable novelty. Mr.
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