"Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn.
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