CHAPTER XXVI. The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. "What's to be done next?" cried Blueskin, returning to Rachel, who was standing with Edgeworth Bess near the door. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. " "None whatever," rejoined Wild.
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