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Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. " With your foodle doo! "Thames Darrell has my heart alone, A noble youth, e'en you must own; And, if from him my love could stir, Jack Sheppard I should much prefer!" With his foodle doo! "Do you refuse my toast?" cried Jack, impatiently. ‘I do not know your Gérard. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. Wood, then, beheld two persons, one of whom he recognised as Rowland, spring on board the chase. She chose to hold her nose. "What!" she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,—"I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. .
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