"Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. ” His walk became a jovial saunter. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name. “Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. Things now began to wear so serious a aspect that a messenger was secretly despatched to the Savoy for troops, and in half an hour a regiment of the guards arrived, who by dint of great exertion succeeded in partially dispersing the tumultuous assemblage.
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