Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. We live under man-made institutions, and that is what they amount to. “I cannot keep silence any longer. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs.
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