Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. It is magnificent indeed. And then I'll pay off old scores. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. "It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches.
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