Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. You know—I worship you. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. That is all I ask. A broken laugh followed the action. He said nothing. " "I care not why you did it," said Jack, sternly.
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