" Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. On the fifth day he had ventured speech with her.
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