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Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. Mr. Earles waiting. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Captain Kneebone! we must trouble you to accompany us. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. ’ ‘It cannot be helped now.
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