The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. She was definitely following him. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. She worried for her father in Mantua, 28 hoping that he was still alive. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. " CHAPTER V.
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