‘Never fear, my love. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. What was their surprise to find it vacant, and the prisoner gone! Jonathan, could scarcely believe his eyes. Nobody will ever know what the fleas thought. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her.
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