"You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. He thanked God for this talent of his. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know.
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