" "I offered Jack five guineas as his share," continued Ireton; "but he wouldn't take it himself, and gave it to the poor debtors and felons, who are now drinking it out in the cellar on the Common Side. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. ‘Inside, miss!’ ‘But what is it?’ ‘Quick! We need the major. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own.
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