She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. I might have told you the truth. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough.
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