"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question.
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