I was grateful. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. The Night-Cellar. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. " "On what business, in the name of wonder?" asked Sheppard. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. The moral right of the author has been asserted. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face.
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