“Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. Too much blood has been shed already. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses. It is putting all my dreams out of joint. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. Sheppard," said Jonathan, looking calmly on at this distressing scene, "Attend to me, and do not heed him. Do you like duck?” “Sure. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. ” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois.
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