Sheppard,—"pray let me go. . . I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. . I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. " "Impossible, Sir," replied Ireton, greatly alarmed. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt.
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