Ah, no, I have it wrong. Wood, furiously. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. She leaned back in her chair. Sheppard; and, as soon as he could command his feelings, which were considerably excited by the mention of her distresses, he squeezed her hand warmly, bestowed a hearty execration upon his own inhumanity, and swore he would neither separate her from her child, nor suffer any one else to separate them. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. That capitaine has arranged it all. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. ‘I will do so.
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