It was well for him that he had taken his place by Sheppard, as regard for the latter alone prevented the deadliest missiles being hurled at him. By a sort of instinct. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. —'How so?' says I. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried.
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