And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. I don’t know that I understand altogether. I hear the splash in the water—I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide—it will not sink!" "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; "it won't do to indulge those fancies now. “No, Lucy, it isn’t fine and I am sorry.
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