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And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood.
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