"Ruth?" he called. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. Several of the assailants carried links, so that the room was a blaze of light. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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