“I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. “She”, you say. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. She realized in a moment what had happened. ‘You are wise, Marthe. I fought. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. "'Tis a cruel thing you've done, lad. Let me go my own way towards them. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest.
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