She had nothing to say for herself. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper.
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