"Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. "I told you I was not unprotected. .
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