Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night.
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