"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. 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. God! I have cheated myself into a belief that the boy perished! And now my worst fears are realized —he lives!" "As yet," returned Jonathan, with fearful emphasis. " "No; another still more extraordinary. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you.
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