On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. "But, however, it may turn out, I disown you. Wild is sure to be up. You've heard the news, I suppose?" "That the death warrant's arrived," returned Edgeworth Bess, bursting into a flood of tears; "oh, yes! we've heard it. .
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