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 spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. You yourself supplied the details. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. “How do you feel?” she asked. “What you have done. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. —'They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion; 'it's unconstitutional.
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