"Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. " "Very. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders.
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