was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. A dove-coloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. A stomacher, fastened by imitation-diamond buckles, girded that part of her person, which should have been a waist; a coral necklace encircled her throat, and a few black patches, or mouches, as they were termed, served as a foil to the bloom of her cheek and chin. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell’s accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. A black silk fur-belowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
But, in spite of her attractions, we shall address ourselves to the younger, and more interesting couple.
“I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain,” observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat.
“I don’t think you could find in your heart to quarrel with any one, Winny; much less with a person whom I like so much as Jack Sheppard. My arm’s nearly well again. And I’ve already told you the accident was not Jack’s fault. So, let’s think no more about it.”
“It’s strange you should like Jack so much dear Thames. He doesn’t resemble you at all.”
“The very reason why I like him, Winny. If he did resemble me, I shouldn’t care about him. And, whatever you may think, I assure you, Jack’s a downright good-natured fellow.”
Good-natured fellows are always especial favourites with boys. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. And so Winifred understood him.
“Well,” she said, in reply, “I may have done Jack an injustice. I’ll try to think better of him in future.”
“And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you there’s no one — not even his mother — whom he loves so well as you.”
“Loves!” echoed Winifred, slightly colouring.
“Yes, loves, Winny. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.”
“Thames!”
“Have I said anything to offend you?”
“Oh! no. But if you wouldn’t have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you’ll never mention such a subject again. Besides,” she added, blushing yet more deeply, “it isn’t a proper one to talk upon.”
“Well then, to change it,” replied Thames, gravely, “suppose I should be obliged to leave you.”
Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a single moment.
“Surely,” she said, after a pause, “you don’t attach any importance to what my mother has just said. She has already forgotten it.”
“But I never can forget it, Winny. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion.”
As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred’s dark eyelashes.
“If you are in earnest, Thames,” she replied, with a look of gentle reproach, “you are very foolish; and, if in jest, very cruel. My mother, I’m sure, didn’t intend to hurt your feelings. She loves you too well for that. And I’ll answer for it, she’ll never say a syllable to annoy you again.”
Thames tried to answer her, but his voice failed him.
“Come! I see the storm has blown over,” cried Winifred, brightening up.
“You’re mistaken, Winny. Nothing can alter my determination. I shall quit this roof to-morrow.”
The little girl’s countenance fell.
“Do nothing without consulting my father —your father, Thames,” she implored. “Promise me that.”
“Willingly. And what’s more, I promise to abide by his decision.”
“Then, I’m quite easy,” cried Winifred, joyfully.
“I’m sure he won’t attempt to prevent me,” rejoined Thames.
The slight smile that played upon Winifred’s lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. But she made no answer.
“In case he should consent —”
“He never will,” interrupted Winifred.
“In case he should, I say,” continued Thames, “will you promise to let Jack Sheppard take my place in your affections, Winny?”
“Never!” replied the little damsel, “I can never love any one so much as you.”
“Excepting your father.”
Winifred was going to say “No,” but she checked herself; and, with cheeks mantling with blushes, murmured, “I wish you wouldn’t tease me about Jack Sheppard.”
The foregoing conversation, having been conducted throughout in a low tone, and apart, had not reached the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter’s wife.
“What’s that you’re saying about Jack Sheppard?” she cried.
“Thames was just observing —”
“Thames!” echoed Mrs. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. “There’s another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it’s the name of a river, not a Christian. No gentleman was ever called Thames, and Darrell is a gentleman, unless the whole story of his being found in the river is a fabrication!”
“My dear, you forget —”
“No, Mr. Wood, I forget nothing. I’ve an excellent memory, thank God! And I perfectly remember that everybody was drowned upon that occasion — except yourself and the child!”
“My love you’re beside yourself —”
“I was beside myself to take charge of your —”
“Mother?” interposed Winifred.
“It’s of no use,” observed Thames quietly, but with a look that chilled the little damsel’s heart; —“my resolution is taken.”
“You at least appear to forget that Mr. Kneebone is coming, my dear,” ventured Mr. Wood.
“Good gracious! so I do,” exclaimed his amiable consort. “But you do agitate me so much. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I’ll send you to bed. Mr. Wood, I desire you’ll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. Thames, you needn’t tidy yourself, as you’ve hurt your arm. Mr. Kneebone will excuse you. Dear me! if there isn’t his knock. Oh! I’m in such a fluster!”
Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell.
CHAPTER 3.
THE JACOBITE.