We dine at seven-thirty. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. " "My confessor!" ejaculated the knight, in the extremity of surprise; "has he betrayed his sacred trust?" "He has," replied the other, grinning; "and this will be a caution to you in future, how you confide a secret of consequence to a priest. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart.
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