“Here,” he said, “is this Blau See, and here we rest until to-morrow. ” “That is so,” Anna admitted. She turned her head away sharply. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. " "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies.
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