"You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. He filled his pipe slowly. \"What's that?\" Lucy asked. I was afraid of being talked about. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. "I am here, you see," said the smith. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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