I am a murderer. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. She was weeping now. Wild, he asserted, had robbed him of a large sum of money, and till it was restored he would never plead. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged.
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