Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. ‘Aye, miss, like a shadow. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. No gentleman was ever called Thames, and Darrell is a gentleman, unless the whole story of his being found in the river is a fabrication!" "My dear, you forget—" "No, Mr.
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