But after all, Mrs. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. F. . . They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. 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.
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