At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. " "No. ” She said. It was a haunted place. After encountering other dangers, and being twice, compelled to fling himself flat upon his face to avoid slipping from the wet and slimy pathway, he was at length about to emerge from the lock, when, to his inexpressible horror, he found he had lost the child! All the blood in his veins rushed to his heart, and he shook in every limb as he made this discovery. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. "Thanks to you," said the doctor. " "Zounds!" cried Marvel, "I—" "Hush!" whispered the tapstress, "or I retract my promise.
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