"Safe!" shouted Darrell, as he effected a secure landing. F. It felt too good. She glanced into his face. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation. Kneebone's visit, Mrs.
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