Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. . "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. It was true. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. "Coming!—so is midnight—so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. " "It is," replied Jack. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. I may add that the family is well known to me. .
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