Nigel, you have not forgotten!” “No,” he said, with a little bitter smile. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. I mean to have you! Don’t frown me off now. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. Wood's habitation in Wych Street, we are luckily enabled to furnish a facsimile) was Jack Sheppard (signature) "I've half a mind to give old Wood the slip, and turn highwayman," cried Jack, as he closed the knife, and put it in his pocket.
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