Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. E. Ah!" she screamed, with a sudden change of manner; and pointing to the window, which Jack had left open, and at which a dark figure was standing, "there is Jonathan Wild!" "Betrayed!" exclaimed Jack, glancing in the same direction. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy.
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