We felt like thieves. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Hill, Meysey Hill. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts. “After all, why should he be surprised?” she remarked. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's—but nothing could daunt him. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. The mob pursued the thief-taker and his party all the way, and such missiles as could be collected were hurled at them. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach.
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