" "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. But seriously ——” “Well seriously?” “Isn’t it your own fault a little? Why do you not tell me your address, and allow me to call upon you. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. ‘By the by, get Trodger to send up one of our best men, will you? Someone discreet. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. She went out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos. “For great passions, for great accomplishments.
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