This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. . At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. "Jack," said Mrs. " "And, therefore, the first I would visit," replied Jack, boldly. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes.
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