It will be a little lonely sometimes,” she said, looking around at them, “and I shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself —and I think for you. CHAPTER XXVI. Try your luck with Jarvis Remenham—if you will. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. 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. He called here on his way back, after he had been to Bedlam to visit poor Mrs. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. “I don’t know, John, but I think there is something going on with Michelle.
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