Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. " "Never!" cried Mrs. Wood, joining the group, "it isn't Thames Darrell come to life again?" "It is—it is!" cried Winifred, rushing towards him, and flinging her arms round his neck,—"it is my dear—dear brother!" "Well, this is what I never expected to see," said the carpenter, wiping his eyes; "I hope I'm not dreaming! Thames, my dear boy, as soon as Winny has done with you, let me embrace you. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep.
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