And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. In fact, it had been anciently the right hand postern under the gate leading towards the city. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs.
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