” “But I love you. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, "and wear 'em yourself. ” She turned herself to one side and propped her head in her hand. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church.
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