"And, now,—to Newgate. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still.
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