"If you talk as long as an Old Bailey counsel, you'll not alter my determination. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. Jack turned away with an aching heart. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously.
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