"And who has authorized you to do anything in the matter?" he inquired, haughtily.
"My future wife, Sarah Kane."
For once, he was nonplussed; when Miss Stone, passing through the hall, said, stiffly:
"I am sorry I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Jones, on winning a Christian woman."
"What can it mean," thought Mrs. Cole; "she is in tight keeping; safe enough." As a feeler, she says,
"You must have the faith of Abraham to trust her still; someone said she is living with a bachelor at London."
"Mrs. Cole, let me tell you there is such a thing as British justice, which we mean to have, when you shall eat your words in a court of law," he said, indignantly turning on his heel, and out into the night.
Simon, at his post in the sick room, told the good news of Sarah Kane's escape.
Turning suddenly, in his eagerness to face Simon, and hear more, the sufferer groaned in rheumatic pain.
"Can you not manage to bring her to see me, when they are all out; the once you did bring Mr. Jones, he said, when he found Sarah, they would go out to New York or Canada; I particularly wish to see them. Jove! the pain; the liniment, Simon; rub me, please, and close the door; if I could only escape, like Sarah; you will do what you can, I beg of you, to bring them to see me?"