"I am. My natural parents both died a very long time ago and I have been on my own for a great deal of my existence. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton.
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