‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. Just as he had arrived at the mouth of the drain, and Jack felt certain he must be discovered, a loud shout was raised from the further end of the field that the fugitive was caught. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off.
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