He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy.
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