You hear what I say, Quilt?" he added, looking at Jack. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. "And, now I'll tell you what they do. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. ” Mr.
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