" "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, glancing significantly at Charcam, who was a confidant in his Jacobite schemes; "is it the messenger from Orchard-Windham, from Sir William?" "No, Sir Rowland. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. She licked his neck, which put him over the top. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. So she married him. CHAPTER IV.
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