"As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. CHAPTER XXVI. The wall of St. . "Don't fire," cried the latter. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help.
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