Wood;—"Owen—Owen!—Thames, help!" "Coming!" cried Mr. \" Lucy said. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. 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. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going.
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