” “I am going to pack my bag,” Anna answered. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. She knew, too, she must not hesitate. 225 “Sebastianus. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear.
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