It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. 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. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. ” The full significance of her words did not instantly appear to him. You know—I worship you. Go up and get my daughter so we can have some homemade pie. All she had found was the love of this dog.
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