Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. "Water!" he gasped. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark.
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