In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. Manned by a couple of watermen, who rowed with great swiftness, this wherry dashed through the current in the track of the fugitive, of whom it was evidently in pursuit, and upon whom it perceptibly gained. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. He walked in her direction. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. " "Away with him!" cried Jonathan.
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