"No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "Spare me!" Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife, with the intention of severing his wrist.
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