She looked 57 forward to when Sebastian visited. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. I expect company. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. She cried out his name in ecstasy. ” She shook her head. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg.
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