He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. I wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance. Hastily, he reached for the door. “I got your note just in time,” he remarked. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed.
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