" Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. The plank hung over his head. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. "Here are some more papers, Captain.
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