A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. “That’s all. "What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all.
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