Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Occasionally he relit his pipe. ” “You do not understand me at all,” she declared. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. She was reasonably certain why.
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