She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. ” Suppose she were to add, “I am going away!” “I’m glad to hear you say it,” said Mr. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home. "You shall hear," returned Jonathan.
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