” Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. " "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key. “To-night we are as we have always been. ” Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison’s shoulder.
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