When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. I am a man—of a sort of experience. ’ Melusine’s heart leapt, and as swiftly clattered into dead stillness as the implication of the second name hit home. I'm about to leave this country for ever. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack.
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