After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer.
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