Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression.
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