“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. . "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. She shrugged her shoulders. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage.
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